


Joining of Worlds

by Amielleon



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Closeted Character, Coming of Age, Culture Shock, Developing Relationship, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Occasional Action/Adventure, Politics, Racism, Relationship Problems, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 115,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amielleon/pseuds/Amielleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years following the fall of the Phantom King, Leon and Takumi lead their countries through a changing world. In weighty moments in between, they navigate their relationship with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer in Hoshido

**Author's Note:**

> This was written shortly after the Japanese release, based off of the Japanese version's canon. As such, there are a few key differences beyond names. I've written [notes on relevant localization changes here](https://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/289351.html).
> 
> If the names bother you, you can [install this Greasemonkey script for word replacement](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/262420.html) and you can read any prerelease fic with localized names!
> 
> Obviously, there are major spoilers in this fic. Any chapter containing strong content will have warnings will be linked at the beginning. Some moments in this story go somewhat beyond T, but I believe that the T rating best reflects the story overall.
> 
> Please be aware that this was my first FE14 fic, with the first chapter written barely a month after FE14's Japanese release, and in the beginning I was trying to find the right compromise between canon's light tone and my own darker preferences. Said darker preferences win out starting at about Chapter 7. Just wanted to state that up front so no one's misled by the lighter early chapters. I'm told that this fic can be tremendously painful to read.
> 
>  
> 
> Beta Credits:  
> tattedmariposa: 1-13  
> traincat: 14-17, 19  
> moonboots: 18, 20-23

“You look ridiculous.”

So Leon said, standing across from him in a blue and black hakama, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. Takumi tugged at his uncomfortably tight blue tunic as he retorted, “If you don't listen and put on that wig, everyone's going to think you're a peasant.”

Leon glanced briefly at the hairpiece he held to the side between his fingers, then back at Takumi. “Only if you cover yours.”

“Then they'd see _me_ as a peasant.”

“You are aware that you're wearing a women's hairstyle?”

Takumi self-consciously touched the ponytail at the back of his head. “That's not what it means in Hoshido. No one will care.”

“I care,” Leon said with mock disdain. “You are bastardizing my culture.”

“Fine! I'll wear a hat when we do this in Nohr. I don't care, let's just get this over with.” As Takumi passed, he jabbed Leon in the side and added, “And put your wig on.”

After a few moments at the servants' hands, Leon joined him, obediently wearing his hairpiece. The thought crossed Takumi's mind, not for the first time, that the outfit actually worked. (Not that he would have admitted it.) Oboro, despite all her grumbling about tailoring Nohrian things for Nohrian people, had done an artistic job of translating Leon's personal sense of style into traditional Hoshidan wear. He'd never seen the Nohr crest look so natural on a coat-of-arms kimono before.

It did feel a bit wrong to see his pale angular face peeping out from the midst of Hoshidan cloth, but there was nothing to be done about that.

“At least Elise seems to be enjoying herself,” Leon said. They watched Elise twirl about in her kimono, embroidered birds fluttering in its cloth as she conducted herself with none of the grace expected of a good Hoshidan lady.

“I'd hope so. It was her idea, after all.”

“Well, I suppose peace is worth looking foolish for.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Presently there was a commotion as Marx and Ryouma came to join them in the receiving room. “Wow,” Takumi said. “They look nothing like themselves.” As if on cue, Oboro darted forth grousing about how Marx's obi had already become lopsided, turning him around with entirely too much force for handling a king. Marx, to his credit, obliged without more than a vague frown, moving his head stiffly as if unaccustomed to the weight of long hair.

“Ryouma's hair looks acceptable,” Leon said.

“What the heck? It's just as long as mine,” Takumi grumbled. Ryouma had combed his hair back and bound it low, the string tied at about his shoulders. He could see how it looked more Nohrian, although he wasn't about to admit it.

“He looks like a scholar,” Leon said. “You look like a princess.”

Takumi glared at him, this prince with delicate wispy hair and slender eyebrows and tiny mouth, trying to insult his manhood. “You _always_ look like a princess. You don't have room to pick on anyone else.”

The scathing way Leon narrowed his eyes made him giddy as hell.

* * *

Princess Hinoka led the procession by herself, wearing a Nohrian rider's outfit atop her pegasus in Hoshidan crests. Then came King Marx and King Ryouma, carried along in a litter, clasping hands between them as they held out their other palm to the adoring crowd. A few ranks of soldiers behind them—second to the main event, as always—the princes did the same, like kings in miniature. At the end, carried next to a pair of drummers, Princess Elise and Princess Sakura drew loud cheers from the crowd as they waved and threw little paper fans to the masses eager to catch a piece of divine luck.

If the people were scandalized by the presence of Nohrian royalty, or by their own rulers in Nohrian garb, they didn't show it.

Leon's hand was clammy and he'd gone too long without trimming his nails, which were starting to hurt where they innocuously dug into Takumi's palm. Takumi tried to avoid them by shifting his grip—Leon nonchalantly complied—but within a few minutes they dug into a new tender spot, and Takumi gave up.

He also decided that tunics sucked. They had no breathing room and left him unbearably hot in the Hoshidan summer sun. Leon didn't know how lucky he was, getting to wear a loose hakama in this weather. But then, his hands were somehow still ice cold, so maybe he would've been fine even in a tunic.

The only upside to sharing a litter with Leon was that Leon seemed perfectly comfortable smiling and waving to a crowd of people that, until recently, he would have murdered without a second thought had he deemed it necessary. Compared to that, Takumi had nothing to feel awkward about.

The parade stopped at the newly reconstructed plaza. Takumi noticed that a new statue of Queen Mikoto had been installed in the center. The look on her painted face was so gentle and lifelike that he had to swallow back a feeling that threatened to bubble up at the wrong place and time.

Ryouma stepped down from his litter with Marx, thanking the bearer in passing as he walked up to the platform. The guards in the procession watched diligently—the king stood where Queen Mikoto had died. The people in attendance, now acutely aware of his foreign outfit, whispered amongst themselves.

“My people—we stand here today, in this plaza restored, to thank you for all of your efforts that made this possible. Were it not for your blood and sweat, I could not stand here on this tranquil summer day in this proud city reborn.”

The crowd cheered. Ryouma had barely finished the introduction of his speech. He was just too good at these things, Takumi thought.

“And to the soldiers whose lives bought us this peace, I could not do justice with words. Their sacrifices were made with a dignity beyond any honor I could now bestow upon them.”

The crowd stayed quiet with reverence.

“Now in this age of peace, the greatest and most rewarding task before us is to preserve it. The bloodthirsty king of Nohr is no longer. Now before us approaches a new Nohr, a fellow soldier ravaged and weary of war, offering us friendship with which to build a lasting peace.”

The crowd, in confused silence.

Takumi suddenly realized that the people had no reason to know what the royal family of Nohr looked like, much less knew their faces well enough to recognize them now. A faint fear started to creep upon him—that his brother's words might be rejected, or that they would insult his friend beside him, or (worse) that once they realized who he was, Leon might not be safe here. If there were enough people here who were like he had been before he had gotten to know people from Nohr, things might take an unpleasant turn.

“Beneath your feet lies Nohrian stone, a token of their lasting promise that they will be partners in our reconstruction. Beside me stands King Marx, my comrade in maintaining all that is good in our world. We stand here now, arm in arm, to show you our vision of the glorious future: two countries, separate in governance, united in spirit.”

A moment's pause. Then the crowd went wild cheering.

Of course. Ryouma could make the people accept anything. Takumi didn't realize until he stopped feeling Leon's nails digging into his skin that he had been gripping Leon's hand.

* * *

Later, kneeling at a shogi table in a nightrobe, Leon remarked, “Your people are very trusting.”

Takumi, in the middle of plotting certain victory in three moves, was pulled out of his train of thought. “Huh?”

“I can't believe they accepted us after a single pretty speech.”

“Yeah... me neither, honestly.” Screw it, Takumi decided, he had a considerable advantage, Leon was a beginner, and this move was good enough. He threw a captured pawn into the midst of Leon's formation.

Leon examined the piece. After a span, he gave a world-weary sigh. “Is this your third win?”

“Looks like it's going to be three to none,” Takumi confirmed proudly. In fact, he was intimidated by how well Leon was doing for someone who had never played the game before, but he wasn't about to mention that fact.

“I'm done for tonight,” Leon said, rearranging himself to sit on his bottom. He had made a very good show of pretending that he wasn't bothered by kneeling at the board while they played, but Takumi could tell that he wasn't used to it. “When you come to Nohr, I'm going to wipe the floor with you in chess.”

“You can try,” Takumi said, privately dreading how badly he would lose. Leon gave him a knowing smile. Screw him and his knowing looks. Takumi collected the pieces and let them fall with a lovely clatter back into their fine wooden bowls.

“Were you actually scared for me today?”

“What?”

“You were strangling my hand. It was quite touching.”

“Yeah right, like you need anyone to be worried after you.” Takumi muttered. “Speaking of that, you need to clip your nails.”

Leon looked at his nails, gave a little frown when he found them to be imperfect, and started looking about the room for something to cut them with. Takumi reached over to his desk, removed a small sheathed knife and a pumice file from one drawer, and tossed them over to him. Leon leaned closer to the lamp as he unsheathed the knife.

It occurred to Takumi that he had never watched anyone outside of his family trim their nails before. It was kind of weird.

Hinoka liked to hack hers off in straight strokes and leave the jagged edges to be worn down in the course of her rough life. But Leon carefully crafted almost-perfect curves with a single cut, just like Takumi did, looking mildly displeased when he cut too close on one side.

Thinking of Hinoka reminded him—“Hey, there's something I've been meaning to ask.”

“Hm?”

“What happened to Princess Camilla?”

Leon's hands stilled for a moment—three nails on his left hand trimmed and two more to go. Then he put the knife edge to the fourth as he said, “She said she wanted to do some soul-searching.”

That was a non-answer. They both knew that. Leon used the knife to scrape the fourth nail clipping into a neat pile with the rest and examined his pinky. “So—she disowned herself from the royal family and left the palace.”

“She... disowned herself!? Why?”

“It's—complicated.” The fifth nail clipping left a wavy imperfection in the middle. Leon picked up the pumice and filed away. “Camilla has never really been one for the court....” 

“Neither is Hinoka,” Takumi pointed out.

“It's not like that—it's...” Leon tapped the stone against the shogi table in thought, eyes half-lidded in distress. “It's just Nohr royal family business.”

Takumi watched him take up the knife in his off hand to trim his right. He was remarkably good at it.

Time passed, with the two of them at the shogi table by lamplight. The silence was excruciating for Takumi, but he had nothing right to say. It might've been the most patient he had ever been, sitting there watching Leon cut his nails.

“Elise hasn't been the same since our sister left,” Leon said. “I think today was the happiest she's been in months.”

“You all seemed close,” Takumi said.

Leon nodded absently. He spread out his fingers to inspect his nails. Takumi couldn't really see how they looked at his angle. “We had many siblings at the palace—Father had no end to his mistresses. The four of us chose each other.”

Takumi had a feeling that he was about to learn something terrible. He had the urge to show Leon to his guest chambers so that they'd both stand up and move around and get away from this atmosphere.

Somehow, he bore through it with nothing more than a grunt to signal that he was listening, and stayed kneeling at the shogi table.

Leon said, “Father was in the mind to execute me, once. I had spoken against him when he executed my history teacher on the charge of treason. Camilla defended me, so he made her strip naked and beat her in front of the court.”

Leon picked up the pumice and just held it for a moment.

“It changed her. I promised I wouldn't let her suffer anymore after that.”

He filed his nails with neat precise motions.

“What a good job I did there.”

Leon took a long look at his nails. Then he slid the knife and the pumice across the table back to Takumi. The sound seemed to break the sanctity of the moment, and Takumi moved to pick them up.

Takumi found it within himself to say, “It's not your fault your father was possessed.”

Leon made a noncommittal sound. “I made my choices.”

* * *

As Takumi laid in bed that night, it occurred to him that Leon might have been his first good friend. He had his family, of course, but there were some things you didn't impose upon your family. He just didn't talk about that kind of stuff with his siblings. And his retainers served him faithfully, but that was the thing. They served him, and no matter how casual they could be with each other, it was different.

Imagine that. He was honestly considering talking to someone about missing Mikoto for the first time, and it was the prince of the country that killed her. The Takumi of last year would've hated him for that.

As it was, the only reason he didn't talk about it with Leon that summer was because the idea came to him in the middle of the night, and Takumi wasn't about to run down the hall and wake him up just to whine at him. 

By the next morning, Takumi had shelved the idea in favor of showing Leon the natural beauty of the royal hunting grounds. Leon refused to humiliate himself by attempting to shoot a bow, so they just talked and scared away all the game arguing about whether anything could be proven real or if all the world were a dream.


	2. Summer in Nohr (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor harm to animals in this chapter (there's a hunting scene).
> 
> Minor edit 7/25/2017 to fix a reference to Gunther who shouldn't be there. Now it's a minor dude from the manga.

_Dear Prince Takumi,_

_At the risk of committing heresy, I must agree. Your brother is unbearable. Were he not so effective in his office, I would likely advise for his removal on account of shaming the rest of humanity with his august soul._

_As it is, the road projects are going smoother than anticipated, and I must join your oppressors in lauding King Ryouma. He might be the only king who could continue to order citizens to work in a hostile location without coming under question._

_I cannot apologize enough that criminals continue to mount attacks upon the carpenters at the Chasm. I continue to be thankful that you trust us. Unfortunately, we have not been able to maintain order in the outer reaches of Nohr. After we heard about the raids, we sent a force to protect the bridge workers, but it seems that corruption was rampant and they became party to the problem. King Marx and I have decided to spare Macduff's unit to oversee the project, although I do not know how long we can afford to station them away from the capital._

_I trust that it goes without saying that we still do not want to expose you to the dangers of traveling here. The situation in Nohr remains fragile. It is shameful to admit that we cannot trust our own people, but it is what it is._

_I do still look forward to defeating you roundly in chess. Have you started on the strategy guide I sent you? You'll need all the advantages you can get._

_The royal garden is in full bloom. It's incredible considering how badly the servants mismanaged the watering. The palace's newly landscaped grounds remind me of my visit to Hoshido last summer. It hasn't been green here in decades. I believe the staff is also looking into restoring the old hunting grounds. Hopefully it will be in good shape by the time you visit. The game in Nohr tends to be smaller and faster than the creatures I've seen in Hoshido. I think you'll appreciate the challenge._

_Please do write back as soon as you can. Running this country is driving me insane, and your letters are a welcome reprieve._

_Sincere regards,  
Prince Leon of Nohr_

* * *

It was two years before they traveled to Nohr. 

Marx and Leon repeatedly cautioned in their letters that the country was not safe enough for a visit, while Elise in her epistles whined furiously about her brothers being tyrants and begged Sakura to grab a pegasus and fly over. Of course, Sakura attempted no such thing; aside from knowing it was reckless, she was busy settling a minor feud between the fox spirits and the newly established Duchy of Kouga. 

His little sister had grown up. And perhaps Takumi had too. For the last year and a half he had been busy hearing petitions for rebuilding this road or that building and the Takumi of before probably couldn't have borne the drugery.

Two summers after the Nohrians' visit to Hoshido, the letters that came took a different tone. Suddenly, they read _We must discuss the future of our countries_ and _Your Highness, as the nation is not yet secure, I implore you to remain in Hoshido and send an ambassador in your stead_. Ryouma gave a kingly “hmph” and promptly ignored the warning, to Yukimura's consternation. Seeing her perfect brother openly disregard his own safety, Sakura could not be convinced to stay home when Elise had been asking to see her for years. In the end Takumi couldn't help but join in, arguing that it was safer if they all went together. Hinoka, not wanting to be left out of things, shrugged and went to pack.

Yukimura sighed at all of them and promised to look after the capital while they were gone. “And if we should lose all of King Sumeragi's children in one fell swoop, may Hoshido forgive me,” he said fatalistically.

They took King Marx's recommendation for the journey—south and across the sea to the port of Notre Dia, and by no other route. At the port, a familiar figure waved to them from the docks. 

“Ah, so you've come in person, Your Majesty,” Zero said. “Let me show you something I think you'll like.”

By that, he evidently meant a pair of carriages and a small elite team of guards. Takumi recognized Charlotte and Benoît among them. He didn't doubt their strength, but still, he was glad he had brought his own retainers with him. Soldiers from Nohr were soldiers from Nohr.

Case in point: Near the end of the day's ride, Zero hopped into the carriage he shared with Sakura—while it was still moving—and invited himself to squeeze in next to Takumi, their legs pressed together and shoulders bumping.

“What the heck,” Takumi said.

Zero threw an arm across his shoulders. Sakura looked on nervously.

“I heard that you and my master plan to spend some _quality_ time together,” he purred into Takumi's ear. Takumi could feel the dampness of his breath. It was like Zero was about to lick him.

“Get off of me!” Takumi attempted to shove Zero out of the seat without smacking Sakura in his flailing. His efforts were in vain—Zero dexterously rearranged himself with one knee on the seat beside him, propping himself up with a hand on the carriage wall behind Takumi.

It might've been funny if it were happening to anyone else.

“I'm calling my retainers,” Takumi said.

“Oh, no need,” Zero said. “All I want is a taste of the young man my master seems so interested in.”

Takumi could land a pretty good kick on him at this angle. He wondered if he could literally kick Zero out of the carriage without killing him. (Leon would _pay_ for this.)

Zero leaned in so close that his stale breath filled Takumi's face. “If you make things harder for him,” Zero said, a crooked smile showing his crooked teeth, “you'll regret it.”

And with that, Zero abruptly backed off and hopped out of the carriage.

With Zero gone, Takumi took a deep breath.

“Should I ask Kazahana to ride with us?” Sakura said, always surprisingly composed at times like this.

“Yes. Get Kazahana in here.”

* * *

Through the next week and a half of travel, Zero led them along a series of backroads, avoiding all the major cities in the south. Perhaps in thanks to these efforts, the only threat to Takumi was Zero's smirking glances. That might have been why, when he finally saw Leon for the first time in two years, one of the first things he said was, “Your retainer seriously creeps me out.”

“Zero?” Leon said. He seemed a bit distracted as he glanced to where Zero was talking to the other guards. “He can be like that.”

Takumi wanted to go into detail to have Zero punished for making the long ride hell for him, but now that he was actually here, it didn't seem worth dragging down the mood. It was a little strange seeing Leon again. His face had changed a bit in the last two years, although Takumi couldn't pin down how.

So instead Takumi said, “Are you ready to lose at chess?” Leon smirked, and everything was as familiar as if they had never parted.

* * *

Of course, Takumi lost miserably at chess. He had thought that he had gotten pretty good at chess before he came here, but Leon was on a completely different level from everyone back home. By dinnertime, Takumi still hadn't won a match—like Leon couldn't win at shogi, he consoled himself.

They filled the head of the banquet table, where filled wineglasses were already waiting at every seat and plates were laid out with tiny pieces of food: little cuts of bread with mushrooms, tiny dollops of pudding garnished with herbs and something white. It reminded him of a sweets shop. Takumi and Leon took their seats. Across the table, Elise was preoccupying herself by teaching Sakura how to cut meat with a knife and fork, even though Takumi knew that Sakura had already studied how to dine with Nohrian cutlery. Sakura seemed to humor her.

It was then that Takumi realized that he didn't know how to use Nohrian cutlery. Not that the Nohrians had made anything less than a mess of themselves with chopsticks, but chopsticks required some skill so he could understand. Not knowing how to use Nohrian cutlery stemmed from simple ignorance and he couldn't stand the idea of embarrassing himself like that. He wondered if he could get away with just a spoon.

Marx rose at the head of the table, Pieri striking a bell behind him to catch the hall's attention. “Allow me to say a few words in honor of our guests.

“The King of Hoshido himself, along with the rest of the royal family, has come a great distance to be with us tonight. Let us thank them for their devotion to our countries' continued friendship.”

The diners gave a polite round of applause. Takumi clapped obligingly, even though he thought it was kind of lame to clap for yourself.

“No matter what may come, we will overcome any adversity with our eyes fixed on a brighter future. It is our mutual duty to safeguard the gifts given to us. This peace, this freedom from the madness that gripped our nations, came at a great price. This we must remember.

“My people, we have worked hard to build what we have now. Tomorrow, we shall return to toil anew. Tonight, let us feast to our successes.”

As Marx sat down, some minstrels began to play a tune, and the Nohrians started to move for the food. Takumi glanced at Ryouma, who bore a politely pleased expression. Marx's speech had sparked a knot of dread in him. What was that about mutual duties and safeguarding things? Reminding them about the price paid, as if he were about to ask for more?

He'd been so happy to see Leon again that he'd forgotten that they were called here for something urgent. He was starting to dread what that something might be.

“Here's minestrone soup,” Leon said as a large bowl arrived. “My favorite preparation of it, in fact.” Takumi stopped staring at Ryouma and grinned at Leon, taking the serving ladle and helping himself. It smelled like exotic vegetables and spices, warm and savory and appetizing. “Pass the bowl down when you're done.”

Takumi filled up his own bowl before letting Hinoka take it, who promptly ladled herself a huge portion. He wondered if she was also avoiding embarrassment by sticking to the spoon.

He tried a spoonful. It was just as good as it smelled.

“How is it?” Leon asked.

“Perfect,” Takumi said, slurping a second spoonful.

Leon elbowed him lightly. “Don't slurp.” Hearing that, Hinoka ceased her contented slurping from beside him and stared at her spoon like it had been a horrible trap. They should've had someone brief them on these things, Takumi thought to himself. It was a blessing that this dinner seemed relatively low-key.

There was one way out from certain humiliation. Takumi turned his eyes to Leon to watch how he placed his arms and held his utensils. Leon filled his spoon from the bottom of his bowl with an elegant turn of his wrist—oddly, he hadn't taken much of his favorite soup. “You don't want more soup?”

“I'm saving room for the courses to come,” Leon said, right as the servants came in with platters of lamb. He deliberately picked up the fork with his fingers pointed down the stem as he pinned the cut of lamb against his plate and delicately cut off a piece with a knife—like he knew that Takumi was counting on him.

* * *

After dinner, Leon retired to his chambers, promising to take Takumi to the new hunting grounds tomorrow. Takumi wanted to take Ryouma aside and ask him if he knew what they were here for, but the dignitaries swarmed him and left Takumi with no opportunity to take him aside.

Well, he could ask Leon about it later.

The next morning, a servant delivered Takumi a tray with bread, figs, and cheese for him to enjoy in bed. Luckily the servant left him to eat in privacy, so he just picked up the familiar figs and ate them. He wondered if they somehow used forks in the process in Nohr. The cheese he left alone—he'd discovered last night that cheese wasn't to his tastes.

Shortly after he'd finished, another housemaid arrived to take his tray, followed by the butler with the terrible personality he'd gotten to know during the war. “Rise and shine, milord. It's rude for a guest such as yourself to linger in bed while Prince Leon is waiting for you.”

Never mind that no one had told him that Leon was waiting. Takumi did not miss this guy at all.

After Takumi dressed quickly as he could with Jakob's nagging, nearly forgetting to bring his bow, Jakob led him through the palace and to the courtyard where Leon was indeed waiting with a pair of horses, one black and one white. “I must apologize for his tardiness, Master Leon,” Jakob said, intolerable as ever. “I am certain that he will learn his manners in due time.”

“Leave us, Jakob,” Leon said curtly. Takumi was surprised—he seemed to recall that most of the royal family humored Jakob's disposition throughout the war—but Jakob took it in stride, bowing and seeing himself out.

To Takumi, Leon smiled fondly and offered the reins to the white stallion. “The hunting grounds are a ways away from the palace proper,” he explained.

They rode together to the hunting grounds, catching up on the last two years. Takumi had no end of complaints about the passive-aggressive ways the merchants' guilds pestered him in an attempt to get _their_ trade route fixed first. Leon nodded sympathetically, sharing tales of how the assassin's guild actually tried to threaten the royal family into overlooking their activities, which made them both burst into disbelieving laughter.

“If I were going to hand this country over to felons, I would've done so at the start and saved myself a lot of trouble,” Leon remarked as they approached a set of gates. They looked new, still gleaming and unscratched. “Anyway, here we are...”

These were the hunting grounds? It looked like a pretty common stretch of land to Takumi. The trees were sparse and browning in the summer sun, thin and scraggly grass looking equally parched. Leon's letters had made it sound like the lush forests of Hoshido. Takumi supposed that it must have looked truly awful before the war.

Takumi realized that his disappointment must have shown in his silence, and hastened to say, “Looks like fun.” That probably made it worse.

“I know it's not much,” Leon said. “It'll take decades before the forests grow back. But there are plenty of game birds in the meantime.”

They came to a small stable near the gates, where they tied their horses and picked up a canteen and a sack for game. Leon led them down a path into some tall grass, where there was no shortage of quail. 

They were devilishly tiny birds. Takumi missed his shots on them three times. The sun was high in the sky by the time he finally struck true.

For a moment Takumi couldn't quite believe he'd finally hit one. As the rest of the flock disappeared into the grass, Takumi got up and walked over to where the bird had stopped struggling. “I got it!” he called to Leon. He pulled the arrow out from the ground, snapping the bird's neck before gingerly working his arrow free.

“You did?” Leon echoed, coming over to join him. “Congratulations.” He held out the sack, and Takumi triumphantly dropped the bird in.

“I want to see if I can hit some more before we turn back for lunch,” Takumi said, heading back to the trail in search of more undisturbed game. Leon humored him, following along by his side.

“By the way,” Leon said, “King Ryouma and my brother have probably finished their meeting by now.”

“Yeah?” Takumi said, wondering where that came from.

“I don't know what they'll decide to tell the others,” Leon said, “but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Takumi stopped walking and stared at Leon. So there was bad news waiting for them after all. “What happened?”

“Nothing—yet.” Leon looked him in the eyes. “I want to say first, that you and your country are not in danger. This is a domestic problem.”

“Uh huh...”

“We called you here because we didn't want our actions to come off the wrong way. We wanted a chance to explain what's been happening in Nohr, and why we need to do what we're going to do.”

“Leon, you know, you can just tell me what it is you want to say.”

Leon looked at him with an unreadable expression. He gave a small sigh. “There is a revolt mounting in the Duchy of Chevalier. We need to put it down.”

“Wait, what?”

“The man who stepped up to replace Crimson as the rebel leader is an extremist who will settle for nothing less than a complete severance of ties with Nohr. He's garnered considerable support in the region and—”

“I meant the part about 'putting them down'. You're going to attack them!?”

“Let me finish,” Leon said, sounding as curt as he had been with Jakob that morning. “That man, Russel, has been stirring up discontent in the entire region. We've received reports that with the weapons they've stockpiled and the popular support they've garnered, any day now they could seize control and block our access not only to the port of Amusia, but Notre Dia as well. Need I remind you that the Chasm project has been going poorly? If that happens, the capital will completely lose access to trade, and thousands will starve.”

“So you've decided to attack them?” Takumi said with hostility.

“What choice do we have?” Leon said, matching the bite in his words.

“I don't know, _talk_ to them! Anything _other_ than what King Garon's been doing for the last decade!”

“I just said that he is an extremist who wants nothing to do with Nohr. Do you think he would listen to us?”

“Have you even tried?”

“No,” Leon said. “Because if we tip him off that we know what he's been doing, he'll probably take that moment to strike first.”

“By the gods, you are all so paranoid,” Takumi grated, not caring one bit that it was hypocritical of him. 

“Haven't you heard about what things are like here? Here's an example that you surely must know. We have been trying to build a bridge, just one bridge, _with_ Hoshido's help, and things have been so chaotic that we're hardly any further along than we were when we started.”

“That's a construction project,” Takumi said. “Things go wrong, it gets tied up in bureaucracy, whatever. It has nothing to do with this!”

“It has everything to do with this,” Leon insisted. “It's not about construction. It's about Nohr. There are problems here that affect everything in our lives.” Takumi scoffed, as if to say _don't give me that_ , and Leon said bitterly, “You wouldn't understand. Everything is nice in Hoshido. You have the trust of your people. You have nothing to fear.”

“Maybe it's because you do these things that your people don't!”

“You are being a child,” Leon said, matching his volume. “The only thing you can say about this situation is that you don't like it. You have no room to criticize me when—”

“I have said _plenty_ of things about this situation! I gave you options and you called them all bullshit!”

“Because they are bullshit!”

“Then why are you asking what I think, if all my ideas are bullshit?”

“Good question!”

“I'm going back,” Takumi announced, heading for the stable.

“Carry your own bird,” Leon shouted after him. Takumi grabbed the sack from his hands and trudged on ahead.


	3. Summer in Nohr (Part 2)

Takumi went to the kitchen to fetch something for lunch by himself. If Leon didn't want lunch because Takumi's presence made him want to vomit, fine, Takumi wasn't going to chase after him begging him to eat lunch together. 

He shoved the sack at a kitchen attendant, trying not to think about how humiliating it was to bring back just one tiny bird from his hunt. On his way out he grabbed a thick slice of bread and some grapes, finding them disappointingly sour as he decided resolved to go see Ryouma.

Takumi found him by himself in one of Nohr's disused study rooms. The door was kept cracked open—a faint breeze blew through to the hall. As Takumi peered in, Ryouma seemed to be deep in thought, sitting on a chair before a vacant desk, arms crossed as he stared out the window. He roused when Takumi's footsteps stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder.

“Takumi,” he acknowledged. Takumi let himself into the room, closing the door behind him.

“I heard that King Marx told you about an attack on Chevalier...”

“And you've heard from Prince Leon.”

Takumi nodded as Ryouma stood. At his full height, he forced Takumi to look up at him as he spoke.

“We're not going to let them just charge in there with the army, are we?”

Ryouma frowned, dipping his head forward to look down contemplatively. “Strictly speaking, it is an internal matter...”

“Brother—!”

“...That having been said, I agree that King Marx's response seems premature. The better question is, what can we do, as Hoshidans, without making the situation worse?”

“I—I thought we might...” Takumi began, his voice failing him as the sound of Leon snapping _you are being a child_ ran through his head. “...I don't know. I don't know if we can do anything ourselves. I just think they're making a mistake, and that it's our responsibility as friends to stop them.”

Ryouma looked at him with surprise. “Well said. You've grown.”

Takumi thought to himself that if he'd finished growing a few hours ago he'd probably still be on good terms with Leon, but it was a little late for that.

“I feel the same way. That is why I asked King Marx to reconsider. However, he would not change his mind. I cannot insult him by pressing the issue without any suggestions of my own.” Apparently, Marx and Ryouma had resolved their parallel conversation with less fire.

“But we can't just let—” Takumi said, breaking off when he heard a muffled sound at the door.

They turned their heads instantly on reflex, hands reaching to the weapons at their sides. “Show yourself,” Ryouma ordered.

The door slowly opened. Takumi's shoulders relaxed when Sakura and Elise poked their heads through, looking sheepish and determined all at once.

“Sakura and I think that we should go talk to them,” Elise announced as Sakura nodded her head shyly in support. “I'll go as a princess of Nohr, Sakura can be the mediator, and I'm sure we can come to an understanding!”

Takumi said, “Were you eavesdropping?”

Elise puffed up her cheeks at him and said, “Only because no one _ever_ invites us to important meetings!”

“Putting that matter aside,” Ryouma said, “it's true that as a third party, we could serve as mediators in this crisis. If Nohr is willing to attempt negotiations.”

“I'm a hundred percent willing!” Elise volunteered.

“I cannot ask you to defy your king, Princess Elise,” Ryouma said sternly.

Elise crossed her arms and played at looking equally stern. “Then go convince him!”

* * *

Elise hadn't badgered Takumi about working on Leon. Theoretically, he could have just let Ryouma win over Marx for the greater good. Then he wouldn't have to be the first to break the silence between them.

Leon sat next to him at the dinner table, calmly eating through his meal without saying a word. Takumi ran through half a dozen things he wanted to say in his head.

_Everyone else thought your idea was horrible too. You like to pretend your ideas are so great and perfect when you can be so completely wrong about the world. You like to think that your mercilessness is “necessary” but you're really just a coward who doesn't know how to use anything other than brute force. If it weren't for us, you'd devolve into tyrants within a decade._

...But by the meal's end, Takumi had come to realize that Leon, as second in command in Nohr, had a great deal of influence over any decisions made. Thanks to the way things panned out this morning, he imagined Leon would go right to his brother and stubbornly argue for a military response, undoing any gentle suggestions Ryouma might nudge King Marx's way.

So it fell upon him to win Leon over, somehow. Or at least smooth out the wrinkles between them. Even though he was still in the middle of seething over the asshole's arrogance.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor beside him caught Takumi off guard. As Leon silently took his leave, it occurred to Takumi that if Leon was leaving the table now it couldn't possibly be all that rude for Takumi to leave too. Takumi stood from the table and followed Leon.

“Wait,” Takumi said.

Without turning around or slowing down, Leon said, “What.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“The feeling isn't mutual.”

Leon's attitude unexpectedly stung. Despite his intentions, Takumi retorted, “I am _trying_ to work things out with you!”

“I'm not in the mood. Just leave me alone.”

“What's with the cold shoulder?” Takumi fumed. “I'm not trying to pick a fight, I'm just...”

Leon abruptly stopped walking. He braced one arm against the wall as he wrapped the other around his middle. 

“... Leon?”

“I said go away,” he hissed weakly.

Takumi slowly walked up to Leon with a sinking feeling in his chest. Was there something wrong with him? Had there been something wrong all this time? Did he just not notice?

Arms wrapped around himself, Leon carefully let himself sink down to sit against the wall, taking deep measured breaths. Takumi could tell that even now he was trying to stay composed. His eyebrows betrayed him, contracting in pain.

It was a mistake. Running after him was a mistake. Attacking him over Chevalier was a mistake. Gods, what kind of friend was he to not notice that Leon had lost weight and didn't have the energy to be excited about doing things together? In hindsight it was completely obvious that Leon hadn't been well and here Takumi was, yelling at him.

… But it was so unfair that Leon would appear before him looking pathetic. Like that meant Takumi had to give in, that he couldn't say that Leon was wrong about Chevalier—which he was, without a doubt. Like this was another one of Nohr's dirty tricks, some clever sympathy play.

—What the heck was wrong with him!? As if it were a show for his benefit! Leon had basically collapsed in front of him and here he was, being angry about not looking like he was in the right.

Takumi wished Leon would sock him in the face.

Leon glanced up at him with dark eyes and gritted out, “I don't need you to stand here and pity me.”

“It's concern, you idiot,” Takumi said. “Do you need some medicine?”

“No,” Leon said without elaborating.

Takumi took the hint and shut his mouth. Instead, he simply sat down beside Leon, staring into the empty hallway. He had no idea where in the palace they were. The lamps burned with a low flame and the walls were unfurnished. Like a wounded animal seeking a place to hide, Takumi thought before mentally kicking himself. He _did_ pity Leon.

Leon's breathing slowly settled. He relaxed his grip around his sides and let his head fall back against the wall with a light thump. Sensing that it was over, Takumi said, “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Of course,” Leon said. He dropped off into silence, and for a moment Takumi thought that Leon might never grace him with more than a one-line response again. Then he said, “They say it's just overwork.”

“You should get some rest then.”

“You're not my nanny,” Leon said bitterly. “And I'm not staying in bed while my country burns to the ground.”

“You're not any use to your people dead.”

Leon snorted. “Like I'd die from a stomachache.”

“That didn't look like any old stomachache.”

“Oh, shut up,” Leon said with surprising harshness. “I regret ever letting you see me look so pathetic.”

Hearing Leon say that hurt, for some reason. Takumi resisted the feeling of indignation that bubbled up inside him as he bundled his long legs against his chest, mumbling, “Well sorry for being worried.”

Leon was obviously still angry with him. Deep down, Takumi figured he deserved it. At the same time he didn't want to be angry himself. It was a strange feeling.

Minutes passed. The sound of diners leaving echoed down the hall. Takumi thought to himself that he was probably making things worse with his presence, though it didn't seem right to leave Leon alone.

It probably would have been easier in every way if he just hadn't seen. Not that he regretted following Leon here.

Leon slowly picked himself off of the floor, dusting off his pants and straightening out his robes. He looked down at Takumi, expression unreadable. “I imagine you followed me for a reason?”

“Yeah... it's...”—something that would probably just make everything worse—“forget about it,” Takumi said as he rose.

“Takumi, I swear to you, if you treat me like an invalid, our friendship is over.”

It was vaguely reassuring to hear that he _hadn't_ completely screwed over their friendship yet. “Fine. But you'd better not say it's a shit idea and storm off.”

“ _You_ stormed off,” Leon said pointedly.

“What?”

“You were the one who stormed off this morning.”

“Okay. Forget I said that. I just...” Takumi sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands. “I just feel like there's no right thing to do with you right now.” If Leon thought anything of that statement, he didn't show it. Not even a snort of derision. Takumi dropped his hands from his face so that he could look at Leon. “It's about Chevalier,” he said tentatively. 

“All right? What about it?”

“We think we could try to... I mean, Elise wants to try to talk to them, and we of Hoshido could serve as mediators.”

Leon crossed his arms and looked at him like he was sizing him up, gears churning behind his eyes. Takumi thought that it must have been how he stared down his enemies. Once again he seemed like someone above human weakness.

“On three conditions,” Leon said. “First, my brother must agree to this.” Takumi made a sound of agreement. “Second, you make damned sure nothing happens to my sister.”

“Of course! I promise.”

“Third—if Chevalier initiates hostilities, Hoshido will lend military support to Nohr in the ensuing conflict.”

“—What?”

Leon stared at him coolly. “If your diplomacy costs us the upper hand, it's only right that you help win it back.”

* * *

As it turned out, Ryouma had secured Marx's confidence with a very similar proposal, pledging Hoshido's aid in the event of war so long as all peaceful alternatives were exhausted first. So Sakura and Elise began to plan the trip to Chevalier. King Marx insisted that Ryouma and Hinoka would wait in the region around Notre Dia to maintain order in that vital but independent port, should worst come to worst.

Takumi told them all that he was going with Sakura and Elise. Hinoka looked like she wanted to protest—she never did have faith in him—but Sakura said, “Thank you for supporting me, my brother,” swiftly quieting any dissent. She was always his favorite sibling.

In the days leading up to the convoy's departure, Takumi and Leon exchanged only a few sparse, cool words. So it surprised Takumi, sitting by himself in the gardens to soothe his nerves before the trip, when Leon came to join him.

“Zero hasn't been bothering you, has he?” Leon said conversationally, as if things weren't complicated between them. He sat to his left on the bench, wearing a light set of robes for the summer evening. Takumi saw its seams on the outside but didn't want to start something.

“No,” Takumi said. “Not since I got here. Why?”

“Just making sure.” Leon had probably given Zero an order to that effect. Takumi did think it was strange that Zero had left him alone, even after he had surely made things harder for Leon.

Takumi had nothing in particular to say in response. He didn't know what Leon was playing at, pretending everything was okay again, but he was sure he wasn't going to like it.

Defying his suspicions, Leon fell into silence. When he spoke again, it was to say softly, “Take good care of my sister.”

Takumi raised his eyebrows. “You could come along.”

Leon shook his head. “If I came, they would assume we were leading an attack. Elise is the only one who won't raise alarms.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hunh,” Takumi said. It didn't really surprise him once he thought about it. All the same, he sort of wished Leon weren't so widely detested. 

Deep down, he had previously thought of Leon as a better version of himself, a kindred spirit in an alternate world who'd toughed it out in a court gone mad, lived up to everyone's expectations, and never made himself a target of humiliation. And here he was, a miniature tyrant, hated by the people. Why did the whole thing have to be so complicated?

Takumi let out a sigh as he planted his hands on the bench to either side and leaned back. His left hand briefly bumped against Leon's leg. He moved it with a brief, “Sorry.”

Leon glanced down at Takumi's hand, gaze lingering for a moment before he looked away.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Leon said.

Takumi thought to himself that what he really ought to do was apologize properly for blowing up that morning. But he didn't want to be the first to say anything, since Leon had been the one who had gotten vicious first. He had the feeling that was why Leon came over to sit with him, that there was an apology lurking just beneath his calm that he was also too proud (or scared) to give.

That made two of them. They sat silently in the gardens together, being stubborn fools.

Summer was almost over.

* * *

They passed another message in graffiti that read, _DOWN WITH NOHRIAN RULE_.

Takumi didn't feel right walking through the most unstable part of Nohr without the Fuujin-yumi in his hands, but Sakura had instructed that they must approach the rebels unarmed. He had entrusted it to Oboro and Hinata, who—after bickering over who deserved the privilege of bearing the divine weapon for their master—were taking turns bearing it in a cloth-wrapped bundle across their backs. All of their retainers kept their own weapons stowed away on their person so that they had some measure of protection, should worst come to worst.

It made Takumi uneasy. It had been simple to tell Leon off for resorting to arms, but now that he found himself in this tiny diplomatic convoy, walking unarmed through crumbling streets while people peered through windows as they passed, he hoped he wouldn't end up having to eat his words.

Sakura's little back was so small and straight in front of him. She must have done this many times before, Takumi thought. When had his little sister grown braver than he was? It was enough to disgrace him.

“Look! It's the place with the lances sign,” Elise said, pointing with excitement.

“The tavern on Rue Reaumur with lances crossed,” Sakura repeated. She and Elise looked at each other, nodded in unison, and pushed open the door.

This place called a tavern was tiny and cramped, with only two tables for patrons. The ceiling hung so low that in some places, Takumi could feel it brushing against some of the stray hairs on his head. Tsubaki had to bend over to fit.

“You want something?” said the server at the counter. The server was ugly and wrinkled with a voice coarse from smoke. Takumi couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.

“I am Princess Sakura of Hoshido, and this is Princess of Elise of Nohr,” Sakura said, her clasped hands beneath the counter the only sign of her nervousness. “We would like an audience with Lord Russel.”

The server made a show of looking unimpressed. “Hah? Speak common.”

“We're here to see Russel!” Elise jumped in. “We want to talk to him so we don't have to fight!”

Elise's childishly blunt words gave the server pause. They whistled, and a boy came sauntering in like he was in no particular rush. The server took out what looked like a nut from underneath the counter and tossed it to the boy, who caught it and inspected it. “Make it quick,” the server snapped, and the boy walked back out with the same lack of urgency.

Then the server went back to doing nothing in particular at the bar.

“Um,” Sakura said tentatively, “may we take a seat as we wait?”

“Do what you want,” the server said. 

The nine of them—three royals, six retainers—would've taken up all the space in the tavern. There were only four chairs, and none of the retainers wanted to be the only one to impose, so Sakura and Elise sat at one table and Takumi sat opposite an empty chair while their retainers lined the walls of the room, Hinata and Tsubaki taking up posts outside. The server endlessly mopped a rag across the counter, even though no one touched it.

It was an awful atmosphere.

“Your hands are so pretty,” Elise said out of the blue.

Elise had taken one of Sakura's hands across the table and was toying with it. _This is not the time or place for that!_ Takumi thought to himself with annoyance. 

“Your fingers are such a nice shape. Mine have big knobby knuckles.”

“But my nails are so ugly,” Sakura mumbled. “The white starts from so deep in. I wish I hadn't bitten my nails so much when I was younger.”

It was ridiculous, listening to these two girls talk about nails in a suspicious tavern in the middle of a Duchy simmering with calls to revolution. 

But then, it made waiting a little easier.

From outside, Hinata pushed the door ajar and said, “Someone's coming.”

“They've brought a force of roughly twenty men,” Tsubaki added gravely.

Sakura and Elise quieted and withdrew their hands, looking attentively to the door. The sound of a latch's clicking caught Takumi's attention as the server slid into a backroom.

Takumi suddenly felt acutely aware of the building's smallness. That if the rebels willed it, they could easily be trapped here to perish in a timely fire. And it sounded like they had come ready for a fight.

“We need to go outside,” Takumi said, rising from the table. Sakura and Elise exchanged glances before following him, their retainers trailing after them in a neat file out of the door and onto the street, where a row of men in red armor steadily approached, lances and bows held at their sides. 

Takumi could hear Oboro unstrap the naginata from across her back. He couldn't bring herself to stop her. Hinata, at his other side, had begun to unwrap the Fuujin-yumi.

“Wait,” Sakura said, laying a hand on Hinata's arm as she passed them. Elise walked alongside her, unusually silent and serious.

At the other end of the street, the leader of the men—distinguished only by his position in their formation—held out an arm to stop them as he alone came forward. He was plain and dark-haired, confident in bearing, skin leathery from decades of rough living. He and the princesses met in the middle.

It was like a last-minute parley before a battle, Takumi thought with a shiver. Why had Sakura kept them from taking up arms? The rebels were ready to shoot at a moment's notice. 

“I'm Rusty, the leader of these men,” the man said, his rich voice faintly audible from where Takumi stood. Sakura's voice was too quiet for him to hear—Takumi only heard the man's laughing response of, “I'm no lord, and no one calls me Russel.”

“I don't like this, milord,” Oboro whispered from beside him.

“Me neither. But we're going to trust Sakura,” he whispered back.

Elise's voice floated over. “We don't want to fight. Is there any way we can avoid fighting?” 

“You tell me, Princess. Chevalier's been rotting for decades. What's His Royal Highness going to do for us now that he wouldn't do for us before?”

“My brother Marx is different,” Elise insisted. “He's trying to fix everything that's gone wrong. He just hasn't had enough time yet.”

“It's not that simple. They'll always put the capital first, and Chevalier'll keep rotting. Tell me, Princess, would you let us out from under your thumb without a fight?”

Elise looked like was seriously thinking about it.

Russel let out a sharp laugh. “Sorry for both of us, your brothers would never consider it.”

He whistled.

In hindsight, Takumi wished that he had pressured Sakura to bring even one of Hoshido's shinobi. If they had, they might have seen past the decoy force with Russel and noticed the people gathered within the houses that lined Rue Reaumur. All at once, people flung open their doors and surged into the street. 

Oboro and Hinata had their weapons out in an instant, forming around Takumi as he scrambled to unwrap his bow. But the people were no ordinary crowd fearful of their weapons. In his peripheral vision, he saw that as Oboro lashed out to strike one who came too close, another person surged in to grab hold of the shaft of her naginata—another grabbed her by the arms. On his other side, Hinata's katana struck true. But its victim seized the blade with gloved hands as a burly woman wrapped an arm around Hinata's throat.

Takumi feared they were going to die, they were all going to die. He finally shook the bow free, Hoshido-crested cloth falling onto the street as he somehow summoned the focus for an arrow of wind to appear above his fingers—too late, as the surging mob tackled him to the ground.


	4. Fall in Chevalier (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/249084.html) (beware spoilers).
> 
> Also, pretend that the struck-out portions of the letter are completely illegible to Takumi. I would format it with black highlighting if I could, but I can't. AO3 has saved you from my pretentiousness.

_Dear Takumi,_

_I apologize in advance for the length of this letter. I have been thinking a lot over the last year. As a result, I realized that there are many things I need to say._

_The first is that I'm glad to hear from you. After the way things went last summer, I was afraid that you might never speak to me again. ~~I realized~~ **A** fter you followed me that night, I realized ~~later~~ that all I had ever wanted was someone who would stay with me through ~~my suffering~~ difficult times. ~~(This is killing me to write.~~ **(** Please do not repeat this, even back to me.) However, at the time, I was too angry, proud, and self-absorbed to realize ~~that~~ ~~how kind you were to me~~ that you were an excellent friend. When I did, I was afraid that it was too late. _

_In short, I apologize for being a coward and not writing to you sooner. I don't hate you at all. The truth is much closer to the opposite. I have been ~~alone~~ solitary for most of my life—you may in fact be the first person I can call a true friend. I don't think I ever imagined that I would be capable of being close enough to someone that I would be able to admit all the things in this letter. _

_This is all more self-centered than I meant it to be. What I mean to say is that I'm sorry for giving you the wrong impression._

_I am also deeply sorry for everything you went through in Chevalier._

* * *

In the total darkness of a prison cell with a solid door and no windows, Takumi replayed the scene over and over again in his mind. The ambushers had come at them with no more than ropes. The archers behind Russel could have shot them at that distance, but he didn't recall any arrows flying in the attack. 

In other words, they were probably all alive. And since there had been so much effort put into their capture, they were more useful alive than dead. That was some small comfort.

His right arm and leg were still a bit sore from where he had hit the ground, but physical pain was the least of his problems. Takumi didn't know how long they had been imprisoned. He suspected, based on his hunger and thirst, that it hadn't been longer than a day, but it felt much longer. He found himself caught in a cycle of sleep and half-sleep, waking from horrible dreams where Russel ran Sakura through with a lance, drifting in between dream and reality as phantasmal screams of a girl being tortured echoed through his head. 

After that, he sat upright on the hard bed and stayed awake. Sleep had never been kind to him. He couldn't afford to entertain his subconscious's gnawing fears right now. He needed his wits about him.

“This is an outrage,” a woman's voice floated from the floor above him. “We came in peace as envoys. Capturing us is a cowardly breach of international trust.”

A man with a deep voice mumbled a response that Takumi couldn't discern. Heavy footsteps stepped down the hall and left.

He realized that that might've been Sakura's voice. It was reassuring to hear her sounding alive and well. In fact, she sounded more vigorous than usual—like a well-spoken version of Hinoka. The thought made him crack a small grin despite everything.

His smile died as footsteps approached the door to his own cell. Someone thrust a tray through the flap at the bottom of the door. Pale light streaked in and vanished in an instant. Then the footsteps walked down the hall, and (from the sound of it) repeated the same at another door next to him.

The food was probably horrible, but he was starving. He reluctantly went to fetch the tray. Not that he had to move far—if he laid down and stretched out, he could touch both opposite walls.

The tray contained a hunk of bread—he already could tell from touching it that it was stale—and a cup of water. As if making a sarcastic nod to his status, they had also included a single cherry.

It was like they were toying with him. He wanted nothing to do with it.

But halfway through the stale bread, he didn't think he could bear to shove any more of it into his mouth by itself. The water didn't help, tasting of a dank cellar. So he nibbled at the cherry in between bites. It was tangy and fresh and he hated it. He wasn't being treated like royalty. The cherry wasn't a gift. It was all some stupid mind game.

He left the tray on the floor next to his wooden plank of a bed when he was done. If they wanted it back they could come get it themselves.

Normally at this time of year, he would have been enjoying a meal of sweetfish. Perhaps wrapped in kelp, complemented with a dash of sour kabosu juice, and served with a side of sweet pickled ginger.

It made him homesick just thinking about it. It had been nearly a month since they left Hoshido. He wondered if he would ever see home again.

He never would've imagined that his trip to see Leon would've ended with him stuck in a prison. In hindsight everything he felt seemed so foolish: the rush of excitement he felt to see Leon again, the surge of righteous idealism that made him denounce Nohr's plans. 

He had been such an idiot. He laid there regretting every decision that led him here. Perhaps most of all, he regretted having been born into a world where it was impossible to trust people when it counted the most.

It always made him feel like he was an embarrassment when he thought stuff like that. Once, when he was ten and unruly, Orochi had criticized him for being unfriendly toward guests at a banquet, going on about how Ryouma had been such a gentleman at his age. Takumi had screamed at her about how they should've never given birth to him if he could do no good. He would always remember how Orochi slapped him and told him never to disrespect his parents like that again.

Not that it kept him from thinking that his existence seemed like one massive divine mistake. He was either too incompetent or too sensitive or too prejudiced or all of the above. He just knew from then on that showing it would make everything worse, so he didn't.

Takumi reminded himself that he was the highest-ranking figure in their imprisoned delegation. There were more important things for him to think about than all of the trivial mistakes of his pathetic life. 

It wasn't a very helpful thought. It was difficult to do anything other than feel horrible in his tiny dark cell.

* * *

_When we were informed that you had been taken captive, I realized immediately that I had ~~done something~~ ~~been~~ done something inordinately cruel. I had suspected that they would capture you. I wonder if I relented because I wanted you to find out for yourself that you were wrong. _

_I wouldn't be surprised if you never forgave me for the rest of your life._

* * *

It was deathly quiet and almost completely dark but for the faint outline of the door and the flap at its bottom. With other no way of telling the time, Takumi judged its passing by the food delivery rounds.

He had only been here for four meals' worth of time. (He had only gotten to eat three—he discovered during the second round that they would not give any food unless the tray had been pushed back through the flap.) Yet he had finished going through the lengthy catalog of all the regrets he'd ever had in his life. He had entertained four or five different versions of how he might die in this place, and two or three far-fetched plans for escape. He had thought of lengthy apologies to his mother in heaven for being an idiot, to Leon for letting his sister fall into enemy hands, and to Sakura for failing to protect her. Then in the end, since he was completely alone and no one was there to witness it, he buried his head in his arms and wept until his chest hurt.

When he stopped, Takumi felt gravely certain that if they continued to keep him here, he would completely lose his mind. Before that happened, he needed to get out.

The fifth meal round hadn't come yet when a group of guards suddenly came to his cell and threw open the door. The torchlight from outside was painful to his eyes. With surprising respect, one guard said, “Please come this way.” Two looked coarse and were armed with lances; the other two looked strangely well-dressed, like the personal servants he'd seen at Castle Krakenstein. None of them made to grab him as he slowly rose of his own accord and walked out of the cell.

They shut the door behind him. It didn't seem real.

He calmly followed the guards for the length of a hallway before he realized that he needed to take advantage of this, whatever this was. He needed to keep his eyes open and take in what he could about the place he was kept in. He had to use this opportunity to help plot his escape.

The guards led him up one flight of stairs and the air grew warmer. So they had been keeping him one floor below ground level. They passed a metal door, kept locked, that would have led to the part of the prison directly above him. That must've been where they were keeping Sakura.

Finally, they came to a wooden door where the hall curved to yield a set of stairs to the second floor. They stopped at the door, decorated with the crest of a stylized flower. One of the guards knocked, and a woman's voice said, “Come in.”

The office was neat, made homely with a mixture of beautiful paperweights, stacks of books, and an ornate clock with its pendulum swinging on the far wall. As they entered, a woman with blonde wavy hair kept long rose from behind the desk, wearing a fine set of scholar's robes. It was in every way a contradiction to the coarseness Takumi had seen in the tavern, in Rusty-not-Russel, and everything else about the prison. She was a woman of background and this was her domain.

The woman walked around to the front of her desk so that there was nothing between her and Takumi. When she smiled at him, her dark eyes were surprisingly warm. 

Takumi felt acutely aware that he had sharing a cell with a bucket filled with his own waste for the last few days and must have smelled horrible.

“I am Claire, an officer in this little group. I apologize for the treatment you've received so far. It is intolerable to treat a prince in this manner. I will have words with Russel—would you like some tea?”

“Um,” Takumi said, unable to bring himself to be unpleasant. “Sure.”

Claire looked at one of the guards lingering near the door and said, “Jacques, if you would please.” The well-dressed guard—no, servant—bowed and left as Claire straightened the chairs in front of her desk to face each other and took a seat, gesturing for Takumi to join her. He sat down, feeling extremely confused.

“Is there anything I can fetch for you? Are you hurt?” She gestured to her cheek. “You seem to have been in something of a scuffle.”

Takumi absently touched his right cheek. Then he caught sight of his reflection in a black polished paperweight near him. He looked like shit. There was dirt and blood smudged all around his face. It was hard to know whether it was from falling onto the street or from stuffing his face into his sullied sleeves when he had been crying.

It was humiliating, having tea with someone in this state.

“I'd like a damp cloth,” Takumi said.

She gave the other servant a meaningful look, and in short order he returned with a clean square of cloth. Takumi self-consciously wiped his face, followed by his hands. Claire was kind enough to gaze out the door while he did. When he finished, Jacques had come back with a folding table in one hand, and in the other, a tray—apparently made of silver—with a Nohrian tea kettle, a matching set of cups, and a plate of chocolate-covered biscuits.

Jacques set the table down between them, placed the tray upon it, and made himself inconspicuous again by the door.

“Please, help yourself,” Claire said, pouring them both a cup of tea. Mindful of the grime still stuck under his nails, Takumi gingerly took a single biscuit while trying not to disturb any others. He took a small bite. It was incredibly good, crisp and fresh with creamy chocolate that melted on his tongue. Claire set the tea kettle down, and he mirrored her in taking a sip of the tea. It was a mild Nohrian tea, not altogether unpleasant.

Claire set her cup down and said, “I called you here because I'd like to see you and your countrymen released.”

“Really?” The word came out of his mouth before he had thought it through. Trying to recover through his surprise, Takumi hastened to add, “That... that would be good. You have our thanks.”

“Of course. Hoshido has been so kind to us during our struggles for emancipation. We have not forgotten that.” Claire took a biscuit. Takumi, not wanting to look as hungry as he was, helped himself another biscuit as she did. “I truly am sorry for what Russel has put you through. The man is good with the people but frightfully overzealous in his judgment.”

Takumi made a sound of agreement, not knowing what else to say. Frankly, he wanted Russel thrown in the dungeons in their place, but it wasn't the time to mention that.

“We must make amends once we have room to breathe. I hear Chevalier was once a beautiful place. They say the sun would slowly peek in between high blue mountains as it rose—ah... it's a shame they've been stripped bare.” Claire sighed a little, composing herself with a sip of tea. “If they hadn't found silver in the mountains, perhaps our people would not have been made into slaves. But well, that is a conversation for later. For now, we should see about sending you, your sister, and your retainers back to Hoshido, yes?”

He had opened his mouth to agree when a thought suddenly struck him. He didn't know why he managed to remember when the rest of him was tired, following in step to Claire's lead—maybe it was because Claire looked a bit like her. “What about Princess Elise?”

Claire raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “Princess Elise of Nohr? Yes, what about her?”

“Will she be released?”

“In due time,” she said.

It was like he had jolted awake. Suddenly, it occurred to him in quick succession—he had promised Leon to support Nohr if negotiations fell through—the Chevalier rebels knew damned well they were from Hoshido when they attacked—Claire was influential and could have released them immediately if it had been a mistake—imprisoning the wrong royalty was probably a mistake that could've been recognized at any level of command—surely there were prison cells that weren't tiny dark cages from hell— _he was being played._ She had probably arranged the whole thing to weaken him just for this very moment. In fact, she might have even decided that he was their weak spot!

It made him want to dump tea all over her face.

But Takumi was well aware that there were two guards and two servants in attendance while he was completely unarmed. Not to mention, there was too little he knew about Claire herself. The books on her desk—were they tomes? And if she had orchestrated everything until now, what could she do to him—to Sakura and Elise—if he lashed out without a plan?

No. He couldn't just take his anger out on her.

What would Ryouma do? Frankly, he couldn't even imagine Ryouma ever being so beaten and pathetic. Ryouma would've stood up in his seat tall and demanded the release of all of them on moral grounds, and because he was Ryouma it probably would've worked too.

What worked for Ryouma rarely worked for anyone else. Surely not for him, a humiliated captive with eight others to keep alive.

So he was still trapped, even outside of his cell. Wasn't there something Leon had said, about the way things were in Nohr? Takumi was starting to understand.

Well then—Takumi took a sip of tea to stall for time as he asked himself what Leon would do.

“I assure you, she will not be mistreated here,” Claire said. “We only wish to ensure our safety. Nohr would slaughter all of our people if we gave them no reason to stay their hand.”

“I understand,” he said. “It wasn't so long ago that they sent a bomb to our capital. They killed nearly a hundred people, including my mother, right before my eyes.”

Claire nodded sympathetically. “Nohr killed my mother, too.” Could that have been false pain in her eyes? Maybe that part was true. By the gods, she scared him with how good an actor she was. “You know very well that they'll stoop to any means. They give us no other choice.” She shook her head. “I believe your nation thought so as well.”

“My nation?”

“The business with the hostages? When one of your family was taken, and you tried to bargain with one of Nohr's in hand?”

“Ah,” Takumi said, realizing with a sinking feeling that she was right. They had taken Aqua back to Hoshido as a hostage. It was so easy to forget that she hadn't joined them by choice. And someone, probably Yukimura, had come up with the plan... and the Queen, his gentle mother, must have approved it.

—He was falling into her rhythm again. Even worse, he was beginning to think she was right.

“I only want what's best for Chevalier,” Claire said. Her fingertips tentatively brushed against the back of his hand where it rested on the table—he flinched in surprise and she must've felt it. “I will let you go. You know what this means to us. Please, ask your brother and sister to withdraw from this battle.”

 _That's what she wants. That's her angle,_ said Leon's voice in his head, kicking him awake again. _Get everyone out. Promise her anything. Deal with the consequences later._

“All right,” he said.

Claire beamed a warm smile at him. “Wonderful!” She reached to her desk and picked up a sheet of Nohrian paper. Appearing without a word, Jacques came and took the empty tray of biscuits while Claire put the paper in between them, setting a quill next to Takumi's hand. “I will see to the safest way to send you back to Hoshido. In the meantime, would you pen a message to your siblings? Everything would go much smoother if they didn't have to fight their way here.”

Takumi stared down at the paper. So this is what she wanted to extract from him.

“Is something the matter?” she asked with concern in her voice.

Something _was_ the matter. Everything was the matter. Takumi took the time to think of the most discreet way to probe her.

“I thought I would tell them in person,” Takumi said.

“War is about to break out,” she said. “It would not be safe for the six of you to go out into the countryside alone, and we're too short on men to spare you a guard. You will be much safer here.”

“We should be able to pass through,” he said slowly, “as long as I have the Fuujin-yumi with me as proof of my identity.”

A gaping silence stretched between them. Neither of them moved for their teacups.

At last, Claire said, “You don't trust me, Prince Takumi?”

No longer able to resist, he snapped, “Not since you threw our peace party in the dungeons!”

“Well,” Claire said, looking uncannily like Leon in his coldest moments, “that is unfortunate.”

* * *

The guards uneventfully led Takumi back to his cell—with armored hands on his arms this time—where he sat in the darkness, wondering what would happen to all of them now. He'd long heard rumors about Nohr's experience in torture.

Takumi wished he hadn't tried so hard to do the smart thing, or the right thing. In the heat of the moment he could get excited and act much braver than he was. Left alone, the idea of being tortured made him tight and light-headed. He wished he'd just written the stupid letter.

He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this. He didn't want to be a hero. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

_I hope you don't think that I'm being shameless. ~~I'm deeply ashamed of myself.~~ It's simply that if I did not tell you, I wouldn't feel right ~~offering you any counsel on the matter~~ lending you an ear._

_What I mean to say is that I'm aware of how you were treated at Chevalier. You sound like you don't want to talk about it, and if you don't, I won't press you on the subject. However, if it's because it makes you feel weak or embarrassed to ~~talk~~ ~~reflect on~~ be seen dwelling on the subject, don't be. You have nothing to be ashamed of._

* * *

It was sometime after the eighth meal. Was it the eighth meal he'd eaten, or the eighth meal round? He'd mixed it up at some point. The difference didn't seem to matter.

The guards came. _This is it._ They were going to wring it out of him. Takumi thought about fighting them off. One of the guards had a sword at his side. Takumi had some experience with the katana. Maybe it would do. Maybe—

Who was he kidding? He could hardly even move his arms in the guards' grip. Laying idle in a cell with little to eat had weakened him. His chances would've been poor enough with the Fuujin-yumi, much less an unfamiliar Nohrian sword.

The guards didn't take him far—just to the end of the hall, which opened to a foul-smelling room. There was a table with handcuffs at its center and a rack of instruments against the wall. Dark liquid pooled around a grate in the floor.

Takumi found himself shaking, feverishly muttering, “Oh gods—oh gods—oh gods—”

One guard on either side shoved him down to sit on the table and kept a firm grip on his shoulders, holding him still. A third, somewhere behind him near the tool rack, picked up something metal, as someone activated a bright magic-lamp installed on the ceiling. Another guard pulled him back by the hair, making him crane his head back, the harsh glare of the light stinging his entire face where it surged into his dilated eyes.

The guard by the tool rack started coming over. Takumi suddenly remembered that in some parts of Nohr they cut off criminals' ears. He didn't want to lose his ears. He didn't want to lose any part of him. He didn't want this to be happening.

Someone said from near the door, “Oi, it's raining cats and dogs outside, mind if I dump this here?”

The guard to his left groaned and said, “We all mind. Get it over with.”

Takumi tried to wrest free while the guards were distracted, but they held him firmly and scoffed at his efforts. He heard a sloshing sound as the stink of decaying waste met his nose. _Just get it over with,_ he found himself thinking, echoing the guard's words. _Get it over with. Get it over with._

Someone took their time running fingers through his hair. _Get it over with. Get it over with._

Someone pulled a cord tight around his hair. He felt his stomach seize. What were they going to do to him?

He heard a crunching sound and he flinched—

—Before he realized that it didn't hurt. 

He recognized that sound. It was the sound of hair being cut. 

It sounded different when one thick bundle of his hair was being sawed off in violent strokes.

He stayed still, the light stinging his eyes through his clenched eyelids as he waited for the guard to finish. His tail of hair was only connected to his head on the left side now. And with a crunching-cutting sound, that gave way, too, and its familiar weight was gone from his head.

“ _Merde_ , that's a lot of hair,” the guard behind him said, dangling it so that the ends deliberately stroked Takumi's face.

 _If you give me a weapon I will kill you all_ , Takumi thought.

“Don't drop it in his shit,” the guard to his right said. 

“Ugh, let's just get out of here,” said the guard to his left.

They tossed him back into his cell with the now-empty bucket and slammed the door shut. 

It was dark. The guards' voices drifted down the hall and faded into silence.

Takumi sat there, trying to understand what had just happened to him.

After some time, he reached up to touch the back of his head. His scalp felt thin and cold.

* * *

_In Nohr, it is sacrilegious for a common man to inflict the usual means of ~~interrogation~~ torture upon the dragon-blooded. That only means that over the years, the court has developed other means for dealing with us. These means sound gentle when described in words, but ~~they were designed to break.~~ they serve their purpose well._

_~~I wanted to say that~~ I wanted to let you know that ~~I do~~ ~~I don't think it's un~~ your reaction is natural under the circumstances. I've found that it's often difficult for outsiders to understand._

_If you can forgive me, and you want to confide in me, then I am here for you._


	5. Fall in Chevalier (Part 2)

_Perhaps I don't have the right to say that. I know I reacted poorly over your concern. If you want to refuse me in response, feel free. I deserve it._

_But before you do, I ~~hope~~ pray you understand that I'm not made of ice. It stung when you ~~turned on me~~ ~~attacked~~ criticized me in the hunting grounds. It ~~felt~~ was as if you didn't hesitate to assume the worst about ~~me and~~ my intentions. I know well that I seem cold, but ~~I thought you knew me better than that.~~ I have no taste for bloodshed. I've only ever done what had to be done._

_I wish you would have trusted me._

* * *

The tenth meal included little creatures that crawled in and out of the hunk of bread.

Takumi set it back on the tray for a moment, staring at the dark space. He swore he could hear the sound of them walking and chewing.

It was so disgusting.

He was hungry and this was all the food he would have for awhile.

A feast for a prince. He hadn't gotten anything but bread and water since he'd offended Claire. And as it turned out, there was plenty of bread that had gone worse than stale.

He ran a hand through his short hair. It was shorter on the left than the right. He bit his lip and stared down sightlessly at the trap on his lap.

In the end he drank the water and pushed the tray back through the flap without taking a bite. He laid on his side to save his energy. He'd gotten used to being hungry anyway.

* * *

Takumi counted up to fifteen meals and then he stopped.

There was nothing special about the number fifteen. It just gradually happened. Counting meals had started to feel like a pointless reminder that he had been here too long and would be here for longer. 

So he stopped counting.

* * *

Time started to haze together.

The cell was dank and cold.

At some point, he became aware of the sound of dripping water within his cell.

It sounded like it was close to his head. He absently reached out to find its source, but nothing felt wet.

The dripping sound continued.

* * *

There was a jittering sound at the door. Takumi raised himself from the bed, one hand nervously brushing against his hair. What else did they want from him?

The door opened to reveal a lanky dark man with white hair.

After a moment, Takumi realized who it was.

He didn't want Zero to see him like this.

“Come on,” Zero whispered curtly. He bent down to pick a guard from up off the floor—Takumi noticed that the guard's throat had been neatly cut in one straight line—and placed the body in the cell next to Takumi before grabbing Takumi's hand and pulling him up. “Come on. We don't have much time.”

“If we're caught—” Takumi began.

“We will be if you don't move it.”

Takumi stumbled, dragged along by Zero into the torchlit hallway that was too bright. Zero gently closed the cell door with a light click, then led him down the hallway—

—down the _wrong direction_ , toward the torture room with the door left ajar.

Takumi dug in his heels and shook off Zero's hand. Zero looked back at him, annoyed. “What?”

“What are you going to do to me?” Takumi said, voice cracking. All of a sudden he was being grabbed—Zero's hand was over his mouth—Takumi clawed and bit, tasting blood from Zero's fingers, but Zero's grip was firm and didn't let up in the slightest.

He should've known that he couldn't trust Zero. That things would end up like this.

Zero dragged him into the torture room and shoved his head inches away from the floor, facing a giant hole in the floor. A horrible rotting stench struck Takumi's senses—breathing it in made him faint. When the dizziness passed, he dimly registered that the grate in the floor had been sawed apart. Its iron bars were lying on the floor next to the hole.

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” Zero whispered. “Nod if you understand.”

Takumi nodded. Zero removed his hand from about his mouth and set Takumi on his feet.

Zero paused for a moment, examining his bleeding hand. Then, like he'd put it behind him, he took out a pair of gloves from his cloak and slid them on.

“I need you to cooperate,” Zero whispered. “Climb onto my back, and hold still.”

* * *

Zero shimmied down the drain with Takumi on his back, then made two more trips to retrieve Elfie and Tsubaki. Once the three of them were gathered on the walkway of the sewer, Zero yanked the rope dangling from the chute so that the shining arrow on its end came out of the mortar, grabbed his bow from the floor, and announced, “Let's go.”

“What about Elise?” Elfie immediately protested.

“Kagerou's taking care of her and Lady Sakura through another route.”

“What about my retainers?” Takumi said.

“We're grabbing a few more retainers on our way out. Not sure which ones.”

They quieted as they heard the sound of voices echo down into the sewers from above them. 

“—like a dog—against a wall—” came an angry feminine voice, words garbled in their own echoes.

“You said—trapped if—no other choice!” came a louder masculine one.

“Yes—when we were facing Nohr alone!” As they passed under a series of openings, the voices became clearer. Takumi thought that the woman's voice sounded like Claire's—Claire and Russel, perhaps? “Hoshido was our _miracle_! If we had convinced them to recognize our sovereignty, independence was as good as ours. And you destroyed that chance by attacking them on sight!”

“Oh yeah, Hoshido, Nohr's biggest ally—they're a miracle now are they? Stop giving me shit in hindsight. It wouldn't've worked!” 

“It _would_ have worked if you hadn't charged in like a complete fool!”

“Yeah, you'd want to _wait and see_. Ain't your kind who's out there starving with every minute.”

“This is not about class—”

“Oh? Are you gonna tell me now that my sister's life is worth as much as yours?”

“Will you stay focused? We do not have the time to have this petty squabble again.”

“Fine. Look, we've got royals from both families. We can bargain hard—”

“Bargain hard! It's bargaining hard that's gotten us into this mess!”

“It's a bluff. No way in hell they've captured Salbert and Dorsner without us knowing about it. When the scouts get back they'll prove me right.”

“It doesn't matter if it's a bluff. They know they still hold the upper hand. If we kill the hostages, we're done. They know that. They'll keep pushing our limits while leaving us something to lose. Once they have us under siege it's a matter of time. We cannot win this stalemate, don't you see!?” As they turned a corner, the voices slowly drifted into the distance. “—convinced Hoshido to withdraw—the ports instead—”

“Right, and—down and talked—Hoshido before—blew up in our faces, you'd be—at me—that I should've—.”

“Kagerou has some good ideas,” Zero mulled to himself. “Send some misinformation for them to lose their heads over. I'll have to remember that one.”

He tied the rope to a new arrow glimmering with magic and shot it at the bottom of another chute. He tested it with a tug before climbing up the rope and into the chute like before.

Harold came back by himself, skidding through the chute and barely caught the rope on his descent. Zero followed after him with complaints about how he was too damned heavy for someone who'd been wasting in a prison, Hinata clinging to his back.

“Hinata!”

“Lord Takumi!” Hinata called back, elbowing past Elfie in a dangerous manner on the narrow walkway to clasp Takumi by the shoulders. “Lord Takumi—I'm sorry I failed you—”

“It's all right,” Takumi found himself saying. “It wasn't your fault—”

“They cut your hair,” Hinata said.

Takumi self-consciously reached to touch the back of his head. “Yeah...” Of course Hinata noticed. There wasn't any way that people wouldn't notice, no matter how much he wished. Surely they all noticed, except only Hinata was forward enough to say it.

“I'm sorry milord,” he said, patting Takumi repeatedly on his left shoulder. “Don't worry. It'll grow back.”

Somehow that just made it all worse. “Just leave me alone.”

Hinata retracted his arms and mumbled an apology. At the time Takumi was too exhausted to care, but he would later remember that moment with a pang of sharp regret. It was the only time he'd seen Hinata look so down.

* * *

At last they came to a bend in the sewers where light fell from around the corner. They stepped out past the grate with a missing iron bar and shielded their eyes from the intensity of the world lit by the setting sun.

The sewage trickled into a pool of putrid water, the walkways giving way to what was once a quarry path, a series of eerie manmade layers that abruptly gave way to forests which sprung up just beyond the lowest ridge. When Takumi looked back, he saw that they had come out into the shadow of the prison looming behind them a few layers above.

“Come here,” Zero said.

Takumi joined the others who had gathered around Zero, who faced a cliff of stone. He dug his fingers into a crack and pulled a slab aside to reveal a cache of weapons. He tossed a katana to Hinata and a naginata to Tsubaki. “This is in case of an emergency,” he warned them. “We're outnumbered and in no shape for battle. We're going to join up with Leon's forces camped a few miles north. Understood?”

Takumi accepted a Hoshidan bow and quiver with a nod.

“I'm not leaving until I know that Elise is safe,” Elfie said stubbornly.

“Then stay behind and rot,” Zero said sharply, shoving a lance at Elfie. “My mission was to fetch Prince Takumi and prepare Kagerou's escape route. The rest of you are a bonus.” 

Elfie gripped the lance and glared at Zero as if trying to think of the most suitable threat under the circumstances. Hinata glanced at Takumi, waiting for him to say something. 

“Wait, Zero,” Takumi found himself saying. “If Kagerou doesn't make it, we need to go back.”

“If Kagerou fails, _I_ will go back,” Zero corrected. “You're all liabilities.”

Harold made a deeply pained face at that, embarking on a lecture that started with, “I cannot stand for a course of action so unjust! We will not take our lives and flee while the innocent remain in peril,” and some more stuff after that—Takumi couldn't be bothered to spend the energy listening to him. 

Tsubaki hefted the naginata in his hands for a moment, testing its weight. Zero eyed him warily, just barely dodging as Tsubaki twirled the naginata around and pointed it at Zero's throat.

“I'm very grateful for your help,” he said serenely, “but I am never in less than perfect form.”

Zero gave a deep and long-suffering sigh. “Like I said, do what you want. I'm only here for—”

He was interrupted by the sound of a small explosion, like a single firecracker going off at a distance. They all turned sharply to locate the source and spotted a trail of red smoke rising into the sky, followed shortly by a second blast, and a smaller trail of lighter red.

“A signal flare,” Takumi said. “Zero, what does it mean?”

“It means you should take the retainers and head north, into the forest.” Zero took a second quiver of arrows from the cache and headed down the quarry path. “I'm going to be busy.”

“The shinobi usually signal red to mean that they need to withdraw with their mission unfinished,” Tsubaki volunteered.

“Is Sakura still in there?” Takumi said, emotion rising into his voice.

“No, just Elise,” Zero said curtly. “I'm not going to stop you two—” he gestured to Elfie and Harold—“if you want to help, but you Hoshidans should take your prince and leave.”

Takumi looked at Hinata and Tsubaki.

“I'd like to get you out first,” Hinata said, “but it's up to you, milord.” 

“Sakura would grieve for her friend,” Tsubaki said, “but as a Knight of Hoshido, my responsibility is to see you and milady to safety.”

Takumi closed his eyes and rubbed at his face. In other words, they all thought staying was a bad idea—including Takumi himself, who was beyond tired of everything and would've liked nothing more than to go back to safety and sleep like the dead.

An image of Ryouma and Leon looking at him with disappointment flitted through his mind. _Leaving an innocent girl behind to save his own skin. Is this all the second Prince of Hoshido amounts to?_

“I'm staying,” said his traitor mouth, instantly springing a gush of panic into his body.

Why, why _why_ did he just volunteer to walk back into the prison? Standing out here in the sun, it seemed like a strangely long time since he had been kept in that dark cell. But now a memory assaulted him again—being dragged out by guards and held in place, hearing only the clink of metal behind him.

“Fine, we don't have time to waste,” Zero said with resignation. “Let's go meet with Kagerou.”

Takumi gripped his bow and followed Zero alongside the rest of them, trying not to think about how stupid he was.

* * *

They intercepted Kagerou on a hill not far from the prison. “Why are you here?” Kagerou said in her usual steely cadence.

“We're going to get Elise out,” Takumi said.

She gave him a long look, her face covered in sweat and dust from her mission. Then she said, “Forgive me, milord.”

Still on edge, that was all the warning Takumi needed to knock her incoming arm away from the pressure points in his neck. “I'm going to do this, Kagerou!” he shouted indignantly.

“Please,” said Sakura, appearing from behind Kagerou with a lock on the left side of her hair cut short. “That's exactly what I've been saying. We can't leave the others behind. Kazahana and Oboro are still imprisoned as well.”

“Zero will see to that,” Kagerou said. “You and Prince Takumi must escape before you are put in any further danger.”

“I've already wasted time trying to get him to pull out,” Zero said, wrapping an arm around Takumi's shoulders like they were old friends, ignoring how Takumi stiffened at his touch. “The idiot prince is here to stay. Right?” he said, breathing moist air onto Takumi's ear.

And Zero had been so bearable during their escape. Takumi supposed this was his way of expressing displeasure at Takumi's decision.

Kagerou gave a long-suffering sigh of her own. “Our escape route was noticed by the guards. They will notice that they've lost several key hostages. They will be fortifying their defenses and every single soldier will be on full alert. Not only are you attempting to infiltrate them—you are going to attempt to infiltrate them with an exhausted team with no stealth training? Does that sound sane to you?”

“If it's easier for you and Zero to enter alone, we can support you from outside,” Takumi said. “We could distract the guards, cover your escape... but we're not going to run.”

Kagerou and Zero exchanged uneasy glances. It occurred to Takumi that the two of them might have taken different routes before in order to avoid working with each other.

“I'll find where they're keeping Elise,” Zero said.

“I'll scout the guards,” Kagerou said.

Takumi asked, “What should I do?”

Kagerou said, “Stay here and don't get caught.”

* * *

Takumi soon discovered that even though he had been deprived of human contact for an unknown period of time, he didn't feel like striking up a conversation. Sakura had gone under a tree to pray quietly by herself, eyes closed. The retainers stood nervously around them, as if determined not to fail a second time.

But Takumi was never good at waiting, either.

He joined Sakura under the tree, golden and red in the colors of autumn. A single fallen leaf rested on Sakura's still shoulder. Despite her pale pallor and her uneven lock of hair, she looked extraordinarily elegant kneeling there with her hands in her lap and her thumbs pressed together, like nothing could ever compromise her dignity.

Takumi wished he could be like that. There was a time when they were both awkward gangly youths who never fit in anywhere, but Sakura had gone and left him behind.

He knelt, imitating her pose as he closed his eyes and tried to compose a prayer in his mind. He had never been good at it. He could never think of how to phrase his requests with more elegance than _Please make this happen, o gods. I would be grateful if you did._ He told this to Sakura once, and she had bitten back a smile as she tried to reassure him that it was the feeling that counted.

Still, it seemed crude. So he threw around words in his head until they sounded decent, and whispered, “Please let Zero and Kagerou succeed in their mission. Please let Princess Elise be returned to us unharmed. Give us the strength to persevere and cause Hoshido no shame. This I ask of you.”

He sat there for a moment longer with his eyes closed, taking in the sound of unfamiliar bugs chirping to welcome the night, the cool autumn air against his skin, the smell of dirt and plants, and the invisible presence of Sakura by his side. 

It was good to be free. It was so, so good to be free.

“I'm sorry I brought you into this, my brother,” Sakura said from beside him. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her eyes were still closed.

“No, I wanted to come,” he said. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.”

Sakura's lips quirked into a small smile as she opened her eyes, looking back at him. “I asked you not to. Thank you for listening.”

Takumi sighed and cracked his back. He had never liked keeping still for prayer, either. “If I'd known how things would turn out, I wouldn't have listened. Chevalier's full of backstabbing cowards.”

Sakura looked at him a bit longer, a little sadly, as she said, “Choosing to trust means accepting that you will sometimes be betrayed.”


	6. Fall in Chevalier (Part 3)

_I do want you to know that I made every effort to see you free as soon as possible. We sent people immediately to scout the area as soon as we heard word of your capture ~~. However,~~ **and** we determined that it would not be safe to attempt rescue without having a military force nearby to control the response it would provoke. ~~I thought it was necessary at the time. I still believe that it helped bring the conflict to a swift close.~~ Time proved this to be correct—the conflict in Chevalier was contained ~~extremely~~ smoothly._

_~~However,~~ I feel responsible now for every hour it added to your captivity. It took nearly two weeks to bring an army near the city. In fact, our spies thought it would be safest to attempt an extraction during the next new moon, but I rejected the idea._

_~~I mean to say that it was a difficult situation, but I did what I could to spare you, even when it verged on being unwise.~~ _

_I must sound ~~interested in~~ obsessed with defending my decisions. I should ~~be ho~~ admit that I envy ~~how well things went for you~~ how effective your attack on the prison was, despite the odds against you._

* * *

People were talking loudly around him. Takumi realized that he had fallen asleep. He awoke now, finding the retainers gathered around the base of a tree not far from him, arguing loudly amongst themselves.

He pushed himself to his feet. A wave of faintness blurred his vision for a moment, and he steadied himself against the tree until it passed.

“Rest well, milord?” said a familiar nasal voice. 

His missing retainer came up to him, smudged with sewage but otherwise looking remarkably well under the circumstances. Takumi broke out into a broad grin. “Oboro! When did you get out?”

“A while ago,” she said, her eyes shining as she looked at him, “but I did not wish to wake you.”

“Don't worry!” Hinata yelled from atop the tree. The retainers momentarily quieted and looked up at him. “Nothing's happened and no one's getting killed. They're just standing there on the roof.”

“What?” Takumi echoed, looking to Oboro for an explanation.

“We have not been told of the details, but from the sound of it, Kagerou is driving them mad. I believe she gassed the soldiers to the roof and is confronting them at this moment? Hinata's commentary can be difficult to follow.”

Takumi couldn't stand the uncertainty. He approached the tree, retainers parting respectfully, and grabbed the lowest branch, pulling himself onto the branch with great effort. Why was he so goddamned weak? He caught his breath on the branch, looking up at where Hinata perched several leaps above him. Takumi climbed trees all the time. It shouldn't have been so difficult.

“Are you all right, Prince?” Harold's annoying voice called from below.

“I'm fine!” Takumi snapped. At that, Hinata took notice and looked down at him, but thankfully didn't say anything.

Taking it one branch at a time, Takumi worked up to Hinata's perch, where his retainer clasped his hand and helped him share the branch. 

If Hinata were still hurt by their moment in the dungeons, he didn't show it. “Prison's over there,” Hinata said, pointing between the trees. It was a remarkably good view. The first thing he noticed was smoke pouring into the sky from next to the building—Kagerou had likely started a fire as a diversion. On the roof, Takumi could see each soldier's dark shadow against the rooftop, little ant-like silhouettes in the stunningly bright harvest moon. “See how they're grouped? I think that's Elise right there.”

Her small size and long locks of light hair gave her away. “Yeah. I think so too.” Hinata was right—they were just standing there, a bunch of soldiers covering the roof except for a circle around a figure by the stairwell—Kagerou, perhaps. 

They were at a stalemate, Takumi realized. And if anything changed—if Kagerou made the wrong move, or if the men felt like they had to do something—the soldiers could easily be desperate enough to gamble on Elise's life.

They had to get there first.

“We need to help,” Takumi said, lowering himself down from the branch.

“What?” Hinata said, following him anyway.

“Princess Elise's life is in danger,” Takumi said loudly so that all of the retainers could hear, “and we're going to help.” The retainers all hoisted their weapons like they had expected to fight all along. Sakura, bow in hand, gave him a nod. “Let's go!”

They made their way down the hill, moonlight illuminating the sparse brush before them. They came to the ridges leading up to the prison, and Takumi stopped them to take stock of the situation.

The guards on the outside were still in chaos, desperately trying to put out a fire by the front of the prison with buckets of sand in a broken chain of command. No sentries were left by the side door atop a well-worn path left unguarded.

But Kagerou had gassed the guards out of the building. Was it safe for them to enter?

 _If she used it while Elise was still inside,_ Takumi thought, mind still spinning in overdrive, _it can't be too dangerous._

“We're headed for that door,” Takumi said. “Be prepared for the smoke.”

They streamed up the winding path leading to the prison's side and Takumi threw open the door, dissipating gas stinging his eyes.

There was a figure running down the hall in their direction. With a shout of surprise, he stepped back out of the doorway and reached to his quiver.

“Wait,” the figure said, stopping and holding up its hands.

By the moonlight that slanted into the doorway, he saw that it was a blonde woman in torn and bloodstained robes—Claire. Takumi didn't lower his bow. “Why should I?”

“I will hand you the means to capture Russel and reclaim Elise,” Claire said steadily, inching forward with hands raised. “In return, all I want is to leave with my life and freedom.”

“Like I can trust you,” Takumi snarled, nocking an arrow.

Seemingly unfazed, Claire continued to walk placidly toward them and the open door. “Think about it. It's in both our best interests. Shoot me now, and Elise is lost to you. I will scream and alert the guards to your presence. Let me go—and so what? What do you have to lose?”

“The satisfaction of putting an arrow through your head.”

She didn't seem fazed. “For the princess's life? Is that a fair trade, Prince Takumi? You seemed so concerned for her before.”

“How?” Sakura said from behind him. “How are you going to help us take back Elise?”

Stepping right up to them, Claire said, “Please let me through.”

Takumi hated to admit that she'd won. He hated it as he slowly lowered his bow and took a step back. The retainers silently followed his lead and parted for Claire to pass.

“Go to my office,” she said without turning around to look at them. “You'll find a Dragon Vein behind my desk. It connects to a network of energy running through the entire prison.”

“Why do you know about a Dragon Vein?” Takumi said before immediately realizing the answer. He hadn't been imagining the resemblance after all.

Claire paused and looked back, only to say, “Oh—and you'll find a rascal there as well. One of yours? He was still alive when I left.” 

She walked down the curving path, her blonde head held straight as she descended with even steps. She looked so feminine and dainty like that, a slender figure gracefully disappearing into the distance. Yet from the start, she had always been extremely dangerous. The thought occurred to Takumi that if he didn't shoot her now, they might regret it someday.

“It could be a trap,” Oboro said, tearing him away from that decision.

As much as he wanted to disbelieve Claire, Takumi said, “I have a feeling it isn't.”

“Come on,” Sakura said, “we have no time to spare.”

Takumi nodded and plunged down the hallway through the lingering smoke. It led them through a kitchen area, and past a door into a corridor lined with iron bars. The smoke was getting progressively thicker as they advanced—it seemed that it had seeped in from the main hallway.

“This is where they were keeping me,” Sakura said, pointing to a hole in the cell wall which Kagerou must have made for their escape.

Takumi had to quash a gush of resentment. Now wasn't the time to wonder why they chose to stick _him_ in a cramped pitch-black cell. He knew roughly where they were keeping Sakura—he could find Claire's office straight from here.

“Take a deep breath,” Takumi called behind him, taking in a stinging lungful of air before throwing open the door to the hall. Smoke gushed out, burning his eyes. He crouched to crawl along the bottom of the hallway where the air was clearer. Gods, there was so much smoke. He tried not to cough—coughing only seemed to draw more of it into his lungs. 

At last, they came to the door with the flower insignia. Takumi squinted his eyes as he went up on his knees to turn the doorknob, pushing it open to meet the remarkably clean air inside Claire's office. He took a deep breath in relief—

And promptly forgot about breathing at the sight of Zero collapsed on the floor.

Takumi looked behind him for the others. “Sakura!” They were still making their way down the smoke-filled hall, slowed by having to crawl.

Takumi swore and quickly knelt next to Zero's body. There was just a little blood pooling out onto the rug underneath him, and he was still warm to the touch, but he gave no response to the commotion. Takumi brushed aside Zero's sewage-stained cloak to find the wound. As he moved his arm, a pair of throwing knives fell from Zero's hand.

Takumi's eyes fell on a series of shallow wounds down Zero's front and cursed his luck. Bleeding, he could've stemmed. He had no idea what to do about poison.

“Brother? Is he...”

“I don't know.”

“Let me handle this,” Sakura said, kneeling by Zero's side. She put a hand before his nose, then methodically set about pulling out the remaining two knives. “Please, go to the Vein.”

Takumi awkwardly stepped around the desk, bumping a paperweight off of the desk and onto the floor as he passed. He was nervous about what he'd find—if Claire really had been lying and this was all a trap all along.

The moment he stepped on the floor behind her desk, he knew that she hadn't lied. He understood the very moment his body entered the locus of energy pooling from the floor: That all the stone in this prison had been mined from the mountain that once was where the prison now stood. That the stone had spent centuries and centuries as one whole, and that bond still flowed in the energy coursing through them. That—

“Listen!” Russel roared from under Kagerou's boot. “The revolution won't die with me. Take the princess and hide!”

—that thirty loyal soldiers wavered on the roof where they surrounded Kagerou, who had them all at a standstill. She stepped on Russel's head harder to silence him—she had him pinned to the roof underneath her, a knife pointed down toward where the back of his head met his neck, ready to kill him at any moment. Opposite Kagerou, a cluster of soldiers clouded around Elise, who trembled at the knees, one pigtail cut short.

Takumi shook his head clear of the vision. In Claire's office, Harold carried the rear as he crawled in and shut the door behind him. They all took the moment to catch their breath. Sakura had balanced Zero over one knee and had parted his tunic, digging her fingers in below his ribs to force his chest to rise.

So he had nine people with him, including himself. Zero was incapacitated and Sakura had to keep him alive. That left him with seven tired, hungry people barely standing, fueled by the heat of the moment—plus Kagerou, who couldn't take orders but had excellent judgment.

Kagerou and Zero had gotten this far with just the two of them. Takumi had seven and the Dragon Vein on his side.

It could be done.

“There are about thirty soldiers on the roof,” he told them. “They have Elise, and Kagerou has Russel. Here's what we're going to do—”

He sent Elfie, Oboro, and Tsubaki racing toward the roof as he stood on the vein, tracing their movements. The smoke on the second floor was heavy, and the retainers had to crawl most of the way toward the stairs to the roof. 

Meanwhile, the soldiers on the roof wavered and argued amongst themselves. There was one man who seemed to think that they ought to execute Elise, except that the soldiers guarding Elise kept pushing him back. There were several others who seemed ready to charge Kagerou, only to be held back by the majority. 

Were they really soldiers? Their training marked them as militiamen at most. Hopefully they would disobey Russel's wishes for just a little longer.

Elfie was the first to reach the stairs to the roof. As she began to run up the stairs, the other two right behind her, Takumi summoned the energy in his blood to enter the stone.

The soldiers shouted as stone fingers shot out from under them and trapped their feet where they stood. Elise, unharmed, stood in shock as she watched.

“Elise!” Elfie shouted hoarsely, emerging from the stairway behind Kagerou.

At that, Elise snapped out of her trance and ran toward the stairs. “Elfie! Elfie!” One of the soldiers reached out and grabbed her sleeve as she passed—but it tore as a shuriken hurtled through, cloth ripping as Elise yanked away. One arm bared to the night air, Elise ran past the circle of soldiers to meet Kagerou, who had left Russel behind to ensure Elise's safety.

The soldiers had begun to free themselves as Oboro and Tsubaki pooled out from the stairwell to form a defensive line next to Elfie.

Russel had wrested himself from between stone fingers, brittle stone crumbling to dust as he pulled himself to his feet. He began to bark an order—“Keep them from...”—but a throwing star thudded into his throat, and he fell back to his knees, fighting for breath. Several disobedient men who loved him too dearly swarmed to his side to keep him alive.

“Join up with Lord Takumi! Bottom of the stairs on the first floor!” Oboro told Kagerou as she led Elise past them and down the stairs.

Takumi tore himself away from the flow of energy in the vein. “They have Elise,” he said to the remaining retainers. “You should head out. Sakura, how's Zero?”

“He's breathing,” she said, “but he won't be able to run.”

The two of them looked at Harold in unison, who obligingly came forward and threw Zero across one shoulder.

All of them but Takumi tore out of the office and raced down the hall to get to clear air as fast as they could. Takumi stayed behind, tapping once again into the Vein. He watched them make their escape, Kagerou—traveling lightly at a crouch while pulling Elise along—catching up to them as they passed through the kitchens and approached the outer door.

He pushed his energy into the Vein one last time to raise a ridge of stone between the soldiers and the retainers battling on the roof. At that signal, the retainers turned and retreated down the stairs. Takumi met them as he came out of the office, and they all dashed down and followed the first group out of the prison.

Outside the kitchen door, Sakura was waiting for him, along with Hinata, Kazahana, and Harold with Zero slung over his shoulder. Kagerou stood with Elise, who was promptly embraced by Elfie as she emerged from the prison. Oboro and Tsubaki were at his sides. They were all out. They were all out and mostly alive and the relief took the strength out of his legs. For a moment, he leaned against the wall and caught his breath.

Kagerou stepped quickly past him, shutting the door and jamming a metal instrument into its lock. “We should be on our way, milord.”

She placed a canister on the ground as they left. A minute later, as they crossed from barren land to forest, it shot a plume of gold smoke into the air.

* * *

_Despite respecting your prowess at tactical games, I realized that ~~I never thought much of~~ I underestimated your abilities as a strategist relative to my own. I had thought that Hoshidans were naive and ~~d~~ untested in the ways of war. I was wrong._

_I suspect the truth is that I am accustomed to careful, certain stratagems. I had been too quick to dismiss risky plays as foolish. However, there are some situations—especially when there are loved ones involved—where risks are worth taking. You showed me that._

* * *

They climbed back up the hill, where they stopped for only a few moments so that Kagerou could examine Zero and administer an antidote. With success blunting the tension in the air, Takumi started to feel faint with exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. 

He also realized that he hadn't sensed the Fuujin-yumi within the prison when he had used the Vein. He might have lost one of Hoshido's Sacred Regalia forever.

They could see the fire spreading through the forest, approaching their spot on the hill. Kagerou's diversion had been a double-edged sword. They had to keep moving.

“If we can, we'll stop at a safehouse,” Kagerou told them.

By the time they approached the outskirts of the forest, the sun had begun to rise. Wherever they were in Chevalier, the buildings were nicer than in Rue Reaumur—the streets were clean and little merchant stalls were set up around the plaza. The city was already awake, people pooling into the streets to watch distant flames with horror. Watchmen in red armor conspicuously circled around them.

Without a word, Kagerou led them back into the forest. All of them silently followed her, weary and dispirited.

No stop at the safehouse.

* * *

Harold tripped, sending him and Zero sprawling into the brush.

Kagerou picked up Zero—who muttered something to himself, perhaps knocked conscious from the fall—and hoisted him over her shoulders without a word.

“Can we take a break?” Elise mumbled.

“Not yet,” Kagerou said. “They're searching for us. We're still too close to the city.”

It felt wrong to see Elise looking so dispirited.

Takumi offered her a hand to hold. Elise looked at him questioningly before she took it.

* * *

The forest gave way to a barren stretch of wasteland. Kagerou deemed it riskier to proceed out in the open than to wait for nightfall, so they finally rested. She had with her a single canteen, which she passed around so that they could all have a single mouthful of water.

The water helped his thirst, but seemed to emphasize his hunger. In hindsight, he thought, he should've been on the lookout for game as they marched. He just hadn't been thinking about that. He hadn't been thinking about much of anything. His whole consciousness was on a cloud, blindly drifting after Kagerou.

Kagerou hadn't eaten anything that day, either, and she hadn't even drank from her own canteen. She simply sat down and meditated with her legs crossed like all of this was nothing to her and she just needed a quick recharge. The shinobi were all crazy.

Elise snuggled into his arm. Takumi wrapped his arm around her shoulders without thinking. Sakura used to lay against his arm when they were both too young to be embarrassed about it.

“Do you think my brother will be angry?” Elise said.

“No,” said Takumi. “Why would he be angry?”

Elise made a noncommittal sound. “He's been angry a lot lately. And I ruined his plans.”

“Leon just gets into a mood when he doesn't get everything he wants. I'm sure he's been worried sick about you. He'll be happy to see you again.”

Takumi realized after it came out of his mouth that he was talking about himself. If Leon weren't a similarly moody creature, Elise didn't say anything to contradict him. 

“I thought we could all live happily together after the war. I want Kamui and Camilla to come back. I want Marx and Leon to be happy.”

With that, she leaned into his side and said no more. Takumi had no reply. He had been too tired to think for awhile.

She was sticky and sweaty and he still smelled like sewage, yet he felt very comfortable sitting where he was. Soon, they were both asleep.

* * *

Someone shook him by the shoulder. Takumi awoke to find Hinata there, recognizable by his silhouette in the dark of night. “Wake up, milord. Kagerou says we're going.” Elfie was next to him, gently rousing Elise.

As Elise woke and lifted her head from his shoulder, Takumi pulled himself to his feet. He was achingly hungry but he could bear it. 

It was nearly over.

All around him, people were slowly getting to their feet. Zero was managing to stand as well, supported by Kagerou. The sight gave Takumi a sense of relief, even though he would never have admitted to anyone that he had been worried for Zero. 

Kagerou herself was murmuring something to Tsubaki, Oboro, Kazahana, and Harold, who had in between them a large sheet of canvas cloth. “—The ends should curve toward the ground so that there is no clear edge.”

They left the forest, the four retainers holding up the cloth over their heads. It was muffled and they were all too close together for comfort, but no one protested as Kagerou, peeking through a hole in the canvas, led them across the wasteland.

No one but Zero, anyway.

“Ah, hiding under a blanket. How safe and secure,” Zero said. “No monsters or watchmen will ever make it in.”

“Their eyes are scanning for several people—figures casting a tall, thin shadow,” Kagerou deigned to explain. “They will overlook one of many unremarkable curves in the landscape.”

They walked, isolated from the outside world by the canvas, the passing stones under their feet the only sign that they moved ahead. So it came as a surprise when Kagerou threw off the canvas and the tents of an army encampment were right before them.

“Lord Zero?” a night guard said tentatively.

“We're back,” Zero said from where he was draped over Kagerou's shoulder.

The guard ushered them in and bade them sit on log benches around the campfire while his partner rushed off to inform the rest of the camp about their arrival. Elfie broached the topic of food before anyone else could, sending another pair of low-ranking soldiers scrambling to the supply wagon.

So when Takumi heard a set of oddly familiar footsteps approach, his first thought was that food had come.

Instead, Leon suddenly appeared from around a tent corner and rushed to where Takumi and Elise sat together before either of them could react.

“You're safe,” he said. And maybe it was because he had just woken up from the midst of sleep, but his voice was raw and his eyes were pink and Takumi couldn't help but marvel that Leon had been worried about him.

“Brother!” Elise launched from her seat and embraced Leon with all her might, knocking him back with a yelp as she buried her head in his side. Once Leon had recovered, he hugged with her one arm and patted her head with another, gaze lingering on the stub of her right pigtail.

No, of course he'd been worried over his little sister.

Takumi stared down at his lap and wondered how Ryouma and Hinoka would react. Hinoka would probably strangle him half to death with a hug while telling him that he was stupid for making all of them worry. Ryouma would stoically nod and commend him on doing the right thing and then pretend it never happened. Either way, they were miles away in Notre Dia right now.

He was interrupted in his moping as Leon awkwardly picked Elise up and sat down next to him on the log, arranging her on his lap with some difficulty—she was getting too big.

“When I saw the first set of flares,” Leon murmured so that only the three of them could hear, “I was afraid I'd lost my only little sister.”

“I made us go back for her,” Takumi said, never able to be as modest as a civilized Hoshidan ought to be.

Leon looked at him like he was about ready to cry. Instead, he reached one arm around Takumi's back and drew him close as he hid his eyes in Takumi's shoulder.

* * *

_~~I can never thank you enough for going back for Elise.~~ I don't think I ever thanked you properly for going back for Elise. When we captured the prison, we discovered that they had executed half a dozen of our officials and the Governor of Chevalier. The bodies were not yet cold. It frightens me to imagine what might have happened if you had not led an attack to rescue her—if Zero had fallen to poison and failed. I owe you a tremendous debt for the fact that she is still with us._

_Last week I took her to the new marketplace, and she was smiling and laughing like she used to. She has had a difficult time since Chevalier ~~, but~~ **.** I had hoped that the darkness of Nohr would never ~~touch~~ ~~infect~~ ~~extinguish her l~~ change her like it changed the rest of us **,** but she is alive. So long as she lives she can still show us her brightness now and then._

_So—thank you. Thank you for saving Elise._

_I imagine this isn't the letter you were expecting to receive when you asked what was on my mind. Sorry for all the ugly inked-out words and revisions. I should have rewritten this, but I found that I could not push myself through a second writing. It is stupid and meandering and I doubt it could even be improved. I suppose you've already seen me cry, so it can't get any worse. I hope you will not think too poorly of me for this stupid rambling letter._

_~~L~~ ~~Sincer~~_  
_Love,_  
_Leon_


	7. Winter in Hoshido

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/250659.html) (beware spoilers).

Takumi awoke to the midday sun shining in his eyes. It was quiet and still. 

It took him a moment to realize that it _shouldn't_ be quiet in the middle of camp by midday. He cursed and pulled himself up as quickly as he could, slowed down by the pain that shot down his legs and back as he moved. He couldn't find his kimono, but there was a clean set of Nohrian robes by his pillow, which he wore since he was in a hurry—it was a little loose on him but they were roughly the right size. He pulled on his boots, scanning the tent for his coat, but it had disappeared somehow. Never mind—no time. 

He stumbled out of his tent to find Kagerou sitting quietly by an extinguished campfire, with no one else around as far as he could see. 

“Did Leon leave without us?”

“Good afternoon, Lord Takumi,” Kagerou said. “Lord Leon is leading the attack on Chevalier as we speak. He instructed me to see you and Lady Sakura back to Hoshido.”

“What? I can't believe him. He talks about how he wants our support and then he sends us home when war actually breaks out?”

Kagerou looked to the side and said, “May I speak freely, milord?”

“Yeah?”

“I believe he was right not to place you in unnecessary danger. Your legs are trembling as you stand.”

Takumi scowled and sheepishly sat down on the log opposite Kagerou. “He should've at least offered for us to come,” Takumi said. Kagerou didn't respond, although Takumi knew full well that he would've been obstinate about going if Leon hadn't left without notice.

Leon surely knew that too.

“Well, where are the others? Am I really the first one awake, or did he take our retainers with him?”

“Most of the retainers are riding to your old encampment to see if any of your things can be salvaged,” Kagerou said. “Oboro took it upon herself to see to your laundry. Lady Sakura insisted on accompanying me this morning, but has since retired to her tent to nap. Lady Elise is still asleep.”

“She doesn't have to do my laundry,” Takumi muttered to himself, even though he was relieved to know that he wouldn't have to travel across the countryside in shit-stained clothes. He looked down at the robes he was wearing. On second thought, they looked kind of familiar. Were these Leon's robes? They smelled like the minty herbs he used to freshen his clothes.

Interrupting his train of thought, Kagerou said, “I should also mention, while I have the chance, that I was impressed by your direction at the prison.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan of attack. You showed good judgment in choosing how and when to intervene. Furthermore, I noticed that you took into account the possibility that we would need to meet an attack from the front or from behind. Lord Ryouma was several years older by the time he was adept at thinking through these critical details.”

Takumi could feel the blood rising to his face. He was certain he was wearing the dumbest possible expression.

But it was a little wrong, coming from Kagerou. After all, Kagerou had been the one brilliant enough to back thirty soldiers into a corner and subdue their commander. If it hadn't been for Claire's omniscient Dragon Vein, Kagerou wouldn't have been caught in the first place. In the end, it was her subterfuge that had set the stage for his gambit.

“You did most of the work, Kagerou,” Takumi said. “I just finished what you started.”

She regarded him with faint bemusement, yet she was thoughtful enough not to patronize him with any remarks about his maturity. Instead she said, “That is too kind of you, milord.”

* * *

In the end, Takumi didn't have the chance to say his farewells to any of the siblings of Nohr before Kagerou ushered them onto the road to get a head start while there was still half a day's worth of light. They rejoined with Hinoka and Ryouma at the port, where Hinoka strangled him in a hug and told him that it would be all right, that she kept his hair and they'd have it made into a wig, and that Orochi and Yuugiri would be taking command so they could go home together.

After having been away for so long, it was strange being back in his room in the palace, with his cushioned bed that smelled like him, his little square lamp spreading warm light from the corner, and his dark cherry wood dresser and bureau. 

Takumi undressed, turned out the lamp, and flopped into bed. He sank into bliss. The silk sheets were smooth and soft against his skin and the cloth mattress yielded to all his bony angles. He hadn't realized how tired he had been and how shallowly he must have slept for the whole journey home until he laid in his own bed, where everything was just perfect. Soon, sleep had taken him.

* * *

There was a dripping sound near his head.

The cell was dank and cold.

He reached out to touch it, but nothing was wet.

* * *

It was dark and he wasn't in his cell. 

He wasn't in his cell.

Where was he?

Takumi jerked awake with a loud intake of breath. There was a faint blue light at the edge of his vision but it was in the wrong place and he couldn't tell what it was from.

He pushed himself up, bumping his head against a wall. Cursing, he felt for the wall and carefully propped himself up to sit against it, blinking away the dizziness as he examined the rectangle of light.

...It was a window. Faint night light was leaking through.

It was _his_ window. The window of his bedroom.

He was in his bedroom.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, feeling incredibly stupid. He was just in his bedroom, where he'd nursed thousands of nightmares before.

He'd long gotten used to calming himself when he woke up terrified in the middle of the night. He picked up the extra pillow next to him and held it to his chest, staring out the window and counting each breath. One—two—three—

The light was faint and eerie, just enough to illuminate the outlines of the furniture in his room. Everything was made of black, dark shapes. His heart wouldn't stop pounding. 

His eyes sought out the lamp in the corner.

Mikoto and Orochi used to leave the lamp burning through the night since before he could remember. Orochi told him that they got in the habit after his birth mother and his father died, and he started screaming in his sleep.

Seven—eight—

Then one day, when he was about ten or eleven, there was a disastrous fire in the lower city that was said to have been started by an overturned lamp. He had nightmares about the palace burning down for a few days. Then Ryouma came by one night. His older brother, who was already a man and seemed like a father to him on many occasions, sat down on the edge of his bed and told him that he wouldn't be a boy for much longer. That it was time to work past his childhood fears. That leaving the lamp on was dangerous and selfish. And Takumi had agreed to all of it because he wanted to be a man. So Ryouma snuffed the lamp on his way out, Takumi stopped worrying about fires, and he had been proud of himself for falling asleep soundly without a light.

Eleven—twelve—

It was too quiet. He couldn't even hear the pacing of a guard in the hall. He couldn't remember if he could _ever_ hear the night guard, or if he was just noticing it now. 

Or maybe he woke up because of an ill premonition. Maybe assassins had eliminated the guards, surrounded his room, and were just about to strike. It probably wasn't rational but it was seriously starting to feel like that was what was happening and he had a hunch—

Fifteen—

No. No, damn it all. Takumi threw the pillow back on his bed and felt his way over to the lamp, grabbing one small wooden stick from a box. He quietly tip-toed to his door and slid it open just a crack, peeking down the hall just in case—no assassins—before padding out. The night guard hailed him as Takumi approached, and he nodded back, feeling very visible as he took some fire from the lamp by the guard.

He came back to his room. Sliding the front of the lamp open, he lit the flame, blew out his match, and set it in the glass tray before hopping back into bed.

He took the pillow back into his arms and stared at the light softly glowing against the ceiling.

And he'd thought that he'd finally proven himself in some way, when he led the attack at Chevalier. He finally had a brave and heroic act to his name and here he was, almost twenty years old, afraid of the dark.

* * *

As Hinoka had promised, his hair soon returned to him from the shop of the best wigmaker in the capital. Impressively, it was only a tiny bit shorter—Takumi was probably the only one who could tell the difference—but it felt all wrong to see his hair like that, separated from his head, bound and woven into a net at the end like the false horse-hair pieces that they had arranged for the Nohrian princes. It was his own hair, with all the light and dark streaks in the right places. And holding it in his hands was a reminder that it had been severed from his head, where it should have been. 

Oboro dutifully came to him every morning to attach it for him. He never had to ask—she probably sensed that he didn't want a servant to handle something so close to his wounded pride. So she came to his chambers in the morning and worked the uneven ends of his hair through the net, skillful fingers making it look as if the hair really were coming from his head, bound back into a ponytail with the shorter layers sticking out from the sides. It pulled at his scalp in all the wrong ways, but it looked perfect in the mirror. She did a fantastic job. She probably knew how his hair used to look better than anyone else.

That's why Takumi felt a little guilty about the fact that putting on the hairpiece made him feel worse.

Not that he had a choice. He had to go meet with conniving public officials throughout the day and he couldn't let them see him emasculated.

“Your most excellent highness,” the official said, bowing low to the ground, “with all due respect, a single inquiry might be posed: Will the project at the Chasm continue to be funded while it bears no fruit, or will the people's coin be spent upon Hoshido's continued prosperity?”

“A reliable bridge across the Chasm would reduce travel time between the capital of Nohr and the capital of Hoshido from a month to two weeks, more than halving the cost of trade, with the added benefit of reducing reliance upon contracts with foreign boaters,” Takumi recited for the thousandth time. He had gotten the figures from Yukimura the second time someone tried to have this conversation with him, and it had all been the same script ever since. It was worse now. Ryouma had left to assure the Fire Clan that they weren't planning to subjugate independent duchies themselves. Now all the petitioners were sent straight to him. “Swifter and less expensive access to Nohrian stone and metal means a dramatic reduction in construction costs. Therefore it is most sensible to concentrate our resources on the bridge project before entering a phase of serious domestic construction.”

“If I may be so impudent,” he said, bowing again, while Takumi mentally raged to himself, _No, you may NOT be so impudent_ , “such a venture seems unlikely to meet success at this hour. Nohr has found herself caught in conflict with its own vassal nations and cannot find the strength to meet her promises. Funding directed toward the Chasm at this hour would merely fall and be lost into its depths.”

“Your concern is noted. We have stationed a force on either side of the Chasm to allow construction to continue.” Takumi could already tell that the official was going to complain about sending young Hoshido men out to die for nothing in Nohr. “We make this investment in Nohr because turmoil in Nohr could easily spread to engulf Hoshido. We must see to their stability if we wish for our own peace to last.”

The official bowed deeply yet again, saying, “If you would hear one more thought—”

“Declined,” Takumi said, waving for Hinata to let the next petitioner pass. The official obediently saw himself out, concealing his resentment well.

He had several hours set aside each day for those seeking an audience, but day in and day out it was always a parade of representatives from the same three or four factions perpetually questioning his decisions and authority, concealing their attacks on his morale behind ritual politeness. Afterward he'd stick the targets in the shooting range full of arrows.

But not today. Saizou had sent a message that morning asking for a moment of his time.

* * *

Saizou led him to a room in the back of the building. The walls were thick, and when Saizou closed the door, all sound from outside instantly vanished. It was a little eerie.

Saizou knelt behind the desk and dabbed his brush in the ink he had prepared. “Now then,” he said, “I have heard that you were taken captive in Chevalier.” Takumi nodded. “I'm sure you are aware that we have had trouble with Chevalier in the past.”

“Yeah.” Trouble was such an understated word for his father's assassination.

“It has become evident that we need to investigate Chevalier. At the least, we need to rule out the possibility that there are greater forces in play. Lord Takumi, I must request that you recount what you can of your captivity.”

That was one of the last things Takumi wanted to do, but he wasn't about to shrink back from an issue of national security. “All right. Where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning. I ask that you tell me everything you noticed from the time you entered Chevalier.”

So Takumi told him about the tavern at Rue Reaumur, the server with the nuts, the ambush. Russel, who Saizou said had been captured by Leon's forces during the attack on the city. The loss of the Fuujin-yumi, to which he said nothing. 

When Takumi got to his first meeting with Claire, Saizou stopped him.

“Was this Claire a blonde knifethrower?”

“How did you know?”

“Kagerou described such a figure, but did not know her name. So it's Claire—interesting.”

“She seemed to know about Dragon Veins,” Takumi said. Saizou nodded, looking unsurprised. “I thought she might be from the royal family.”

“Likely. There had been an incident, a few years after the passing of King Sumeragi, where one of the King's concubines was charged of the poisoning deaths of two heirs. We received the news with interest, as we thought it might provide an opportunity to rescue our hostage—unfortunately, we were unsuccessful. Before we could launch a second attempt, the situation was resolved when the concubine's daughter testified against her mother and was exiled from the court. If I recall, the daughter's name was Claire.”

“Hunh,” Takumi said. “Guess she was born rotten.”

“As most Nohrians are, milord,” Saizou said dismissively. “But pray continue.”

“Right. After I told her I wouldn't write the letter, she had me brought back to the cell. Three or four meals later, the guards came and took me to the, um...” Takumi absentmindedly brushed back his bangs from his face, “torture room.”

Saizou raised his eyebrows intently.

“There was a rack of instruments. Two guards held me down. Another went over and grabbed something off the rack. He came back over and he, he cut off my hair.”

Saizou said nothing. 

“They took me back to the cell. I don't know how long they kept me after that. Then Zero showed up—”

“Please hold,” Saizou interrupted. “Did anything else take place in that room?”

“What?” Takumi tried to understand the question. “Uh... Zero made our escape through a drain in that room...”

“I mean to say—it is important that we learn what we can of Nohr's interrogation methods, even if they may be unpleasant to repeat.”

“I told you,” Takumi said, fingers digging into his knees as he repeated his statements. “They kept me alone in a cell roughly the size of a privy. It was pitch black, dead silent, and all I had was—the delivery of rotten food. I was taken out of the cell twice the whole time I was there, once so I could be pressured into calling off our troops, and once so the guards could humiliate me and cut off my hair. That's what they did.”

“Is that all?” Saizou said, and in the moment before he hastily added, “—milord,” the damage had already been done.

There was really nothing Takumi could say. Nothing but, “Yes, that's _all_ ,” before he rose to leave without asking.

Saizou had the sense not to stop him.

* * *

There was hardly an hour of sun left in the shortening days of late fall, but Takumi went to the shooting range anyway. He desperately needed to shoot something before his anger found a less acceptable outlet.

He shot one, two, three arrows—no, dammit, he had to stop counting things. It was so stupid. Takumi muttered the lyrics to nursery rhymes instead— _Let me pass, let me pass / What's this little path here?_ —driving arrow after arrow into the posts, their slender figures casting long streaks as the sun set.

He wasn't mature enough, he wasn't dependable enough, he might never be good enough. Apparently he hadn't suffered enough, either.

His two arrows struck the third and fourth ring out from the middle. Why couldn't he do anything right?

Of course, Saizou probably had some magnificently tragic story. By all rights he'd likely been captured and tortured to a pulp, had his eye ripped apart and everything, earned his place because he never cracked. The shinobi were all crazy, inhuman. Of course Takumi would never go through anything worth complaining about compared to them, he was such a _delicate coddled prince_ who couldn't take sitting around in the dark—

The bowstring slipped from his fingers and cracked against the hand holding the bow.

Takumi cursed, squinting at his hand in the fading light. A welt was beginning to form across the base of his thumb. He hadn't made a novice mistake like that in ages.

Evidently he couldn't even shoot a bow tonight. Takumi tossed the bow and quiver back into the supply closet and trudged up to his room.

A servant had already lit his lamp for the evening. Not in the mood to interact with anyone else, not even a servant, Takumi shed the outer layers of his garb by himself and tossed them onto his bureau, then gingerly worked the hairpiece out from the back of his head. 

He stared at the thing where it laid in his hands, limp and ragged like a dead animal, coarse against the sensitive welt across his thumb.

For a moment he entertained the idea that if he were in Nohr, no one would look at him twice for having short hair. It didn't mean anything to them. He could hide his shame in plain sight and forget about it all.

As soon as he thought it, Takumi realized that it was a stupid thought. Nohrians wouldn't care because they never cared about anything important to him in the first place. It wasn't the same. It wasn't what he wanted.

He laid the hairpiece across the bureau next to his clothes. As he caught sight of his writing table, it occurred to him that Leon hadn't sent any letters since their ill-fated trip that summer. Leon had probably forgotten, being busy with the war.

Takumi knelt at the table, dripping a bit of water from the pot onto the inkstone, rubbing the inkstick back and forth as he thought of all the things he wanted to tell Leon. 

He started writing a perfectly decent letter— _Salutations. / The days have been shortening as autumn draws to an end..._ —but it wasn't long before he found himself ranting about how much he hated Saizou's guts, how Ryouma conveniently left for a trip right when everyone started making a fuss about the state of the world, how his dreams had never been good but had somehow gotten worse—

And it was there, right after he wrote the words _the dark reminds me of_ , where his brush stopped as shame overtook him. 

He remembered very clearly how Leon had sat across from him at a shogi table, clipping his nails and calmly talking about how his father might have killed him if not for his sister's sacrifice. 

Leon was likely preparing for a battle right at this very moment. He had plenty of better things to worry about. And Takumi had wasted a perfectly good sheet of paper with nonsense that he would've been embarrassed to say to Orochi at the age of seven.

He tore up the letter. He dunked the pieces in the pot of water for good measure. None of it made him feel any better.

* * *

It was shockingly cold that night. Takumi spent the whole night half-awake, dinner laying heavy in his stomach, both too upset and too cold to fall asleep. When the first beams of early sunlight shone through his window, Takumi gave up and climbed out of bed, pulling on several layers of clothing to keep warm.

There were snowflakes caught in the violent wind blowing past his window. Takumi peered outside to find that it had started snowing early this year, although none of it was accumulating on the ground.

What a horrible day this was shaping to be.

He grabbed the nearest book for a distraction to pass the time. It was a translated text from the civilization that existed before Hoshido, outlining the moral precepts by which its society might recover from the unrest that plagued it. The language was difficult, his head ached from lack of sleep, and he hadn't absorbed any of it by the time Oboro tapped lightly at his door.

Takumi rose from the cushion to slide open the door. “Good morning, Lord Takumi,” she said, bowing a little as she waited for him to invite her in.

“Yeah... good morning,” Takumi said. He stepped aside so that Oboro could head to the bureau to take up his hairpiece.

She turned around, smoothing the hairpiece in her hands as she looked at him expectantly.

“You know, Oboro...” Takumi said, sliding the door shut, “I'm not feeling well. Can you cancel my appointments for me?”

“Oh—um, yes, of course.” She set the hairpiece back down on the bureau and searched his face with worry, as if she were trying to determine without touching him if he had a fever. “Should I summon a doctor, milord?”

“No. I just need some rest.”

Oboro bowed again. “I will see to it that you are not disturbed. If there's anything you might need, please let me know.”

Takumi sat back down on his cushion, a little surprised at how easy that was.

Too easy. And he immediately began to feel a bit guilty about it. Look at him, ducking out of his responsibilities because he was upset. Oboro had followed him through Chevalier. It hadn't even been her own choices that got her captured with the rest of them, and here she was, doing everything she could to support him.

“Oboro,” Takumi said, “could you stay a moment?”

“Ah—if you'd like, milord.”

Takumi offered her the cushion next to him. She knelt, looking at him nervously.

“I realized that I haven't thanked you for looking after me.”

“No need, milord. It is my pleasure.”

“No, I really owe you a lot,” Takumi said. “You and Hinata have endured everything alongside me, and at the end of the day you're still thinking of me. I couldn't ask for a more devoted pair of retainers.” And, he remembered with a sense of guilt, he hadn't been willing to leave Elise behind, but he had accepted that they might leave without Oboro. It was because he felt that Oboro could look after herself for a time, Takumi told himself—but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had been taking them for granted.

“Lord Takumi,” Oboro murmured, then swallowed hoarseness from her throat. Like she was trying to steel herself to say something.

“What is it, Oboro?”

“I need to make a confession.”

Takumi had a feeling he knew what this was about. He had sensed that Oboro had a crush on him since a few months after he had taken her as his retainer. They weren't yet close at the time, and Takumi had found it amusing and flattering. He had only just begun to grow to a man's height, his voice still high and his face still round, and it made him feel cool, knowing that he made a girl swoon.

And since it never went anywhere in the years after that, he had naively assumed that he would never have to decide what to do about it.

“While we were in Chevalier,” she said, “the guards liked to toy with us—Kazahana and myself. They would slam on the bars while we were sleeping, tell us about all the lewd things they wanted to do...”

—No, he was still taking Oboro for granted. Of course she'd suffered, too. Of course she also wanted someone to listen.

“One night, they said they were going to execute us. They dragged us out of our cells, blindfolded us, and led us up to the roof. There was a sound like an axe going through flesh to my left and I thought I felt Kazahana's blood splash against my face...”

Oboro took a breath to compose herself, not meeting Takumi's eyes.

“Well, a moment later I realized I could hear Kazahana screaming too. It turned out that they split a log and splashed warm water on our faces. But for a moment, I really thought I was going to die, and I found myself thinking...”

Oboro had squeezed herself small, shoulders curled inward and hands clasped between her legs.

“I just regretted... not ever telling you that I... like you.”

That turned out worse than Takumi was ever expecting. Oboro had said it like it was a frivolous little thing, that she _liked_ him, but gods—that was what was running through her head in what she thought were her last moments? No—when Takumi thought through everything he knew about her, how she dedicated herself to him and protected him bodily all throughout their incursion into the Invisible Kingdom and spent her first day out of hell in Chevalier making sure he'd have clean clothes—she didn't just like him.

She loved him. And that terrified him.

Because he had never sorted out whether he wanted to court her, and he didn't want to hurt her, and his exhausted mind didn't know where to start.

But time didn't wait for him to catch up. Oboro sat there quietly, waiting for some kind of response. To Takumi's speechless silence, she muttered, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't. It's not right to harbor such feelings for one's master. I shall resign immediately and trouble you no more.” And she began to cry.

“No—Oboro, that's not what I want.” 

She looked at him with such hope in her sad eyes and Takumi prayed to every god he knew that he wouldn't make a mistake in his exhaustion.

“You're important to me, Oboro. I wouldn't want you to leave just because—”

His mind drew a blank. He had no idea what to call this thing she had just confessed to him. “Just because you love me” didn't make sense and “just because you're smitten with your lord” sounded impersonal and Takumi wished he hadn't impulsively initiated a heart-to-heart with Oboro this morning.

“—I'm having trouble with words this morning,” he said to stall. “Sorry, I'm not thinking clearly right now. But I don't want you to leave. ...Don't be so hard on yourself.”

“I apologize, milord,” she managed between quick breaths that shook her words.

“You don't have to apologize,” Takumi said. He dared to reach out and pat her on the back, praying that she wouldn't take it as a sign to lean in close. Maybe he would've felt better about himself if she did—instead, Oboro sat there obediently, keeping one arm wrapped around her middle and her other hand at her mouth to slow her sobs.

* * *

Winters in Hoshido were always miserable, the cold piercing through airy buildings designed to breathe in the summer. Takumi was especially miserable this year. 

At first he had welcomed the suspension of his duties for the winter. He had found no pleasure in listening to petitioners ask about the same three or four things. It was liberating to be able to forgo putting on the hairpiece some days, wandering around with his hair in a tiny uneven rabbit's tail as he kept to the inner grounds of the palace. The servants whispered about it a great deal at first, but Takumi found that he didn't care. Hair or no hair, he was a Prince of Hoshido and none of them dared to say anything about it.

But after a month of loafing about the palace grounds with fingers that were too cold to shoot straight, Takumi discovered that it all made him feel _worse_. In the absence of routine to mark the passing of each day, long stretches of winter seemed to blend together into one unending stream of loneliness.

He didn't want to do things with Hinata, because Hinata kept sneaking glances at his hair while spouting energetic reassurances about how hair would grow back. Never mind that he had slowly grown his hair to that length since birth, with only a few sparse trims in between. And it seemed beside the point anyway—his hair growing back in a decade or two didn't change the fact that it had been cut. He was a prince. He always understood that it was never supposed to be cut, as a symbol of his dignity and masculinity. They had made him small in Chevalier, and everyone around him knew that while refusing to talk about it with any honesty.

Oboro had seemed sympathetic. She hadn't tried too hard to give him reasons why everything would turn out fine, instead focusing on whatever comfort she could provide to him in the moment. But then he had broken her heart. Even so, she made a birthday present for him, a lovely new winter coat that she must have been working on nonstop since their return to finish in time—even after he had let her down. How could he impose false hope on her? She loved him so intensely that seeing him must've brought her pain. He didn't want to be cruel. (Or maybe it was the other way around—maybe he was scared of starting something in a moment of weakness.)

There were his sisters, and he joined them in their game of cards now and then, but when it came to his off days, he hated looking weak in front of them. That was what it always came down to—he needed to exude strength, even though he had known that he was much weaker than he wanted to be.

(Out of all of them, he might have felt all right showing weakness before Aqua. And Aqua had been sealed away in another world.)

So he passed much of the winter drowning himself in solitary amusements. He finished all the philosophy texts in the royal library that he hadn't read before. He crafted nearly two hundred arrows to use when it was warm enough to shoot for more than ten minutes at a time. Finally, when he thought he was going to go stir-crazy, he borrowed—stole?—a set of servants' clothes and snuck out to wander around town by himself, looking like anyone else with cloth tightly tied around his head to protect his ears from the wind. 

Wandering had been more fun as a boy. By now, all the shops and crafthouses were places of practical importance. Now that he knew these streets, now that he had helped provision an army and purchased weapons and cloth and other supplies, that sense of novelty and wonder was gone.

And besides, it was freezing.

In late winter, the news arrived that Nohr was stable and their troops would be coming home as soon as it was warm enough to march. With the situation dying down in Nohr, Takumi held out a lingering hope that a letter from Leon would be coming soon. But no letter came.

* * *

Ryouma came home just as the air was starting to warm and the ice on the streets had thawed. He came home and everyone flocked to receive him and welcome him back, including Takumi, who went with Sakura to the receiving hall when she told him because it would've been rude not to.

He was conferring with Yukimura when Takumi and Sakura came in, and he stopped their conversation to smile and greet them, eyes lingering a little uncertainly on Takumi. Takumi resisted the urge to touch his short ponytail—he had thought that Ryouma wouldn't have thought anything of it, since he had already seen it in Notre Dia. Evidently not—before Ryouma returned to his conversation with Yukimura, he told him, “I'd like to speak with you later. Come by the throne room in an hour.”

He scrambled to find Oboro and asked her if she would help put in his hairpiece for the upcoming feast for their king's return, and she eagerly helped him like nothing at all was amiss and he hadn't been avoiding her all winter. With his hair in, and having changed into his better set of clothes to be on the safe side—like looking super-presentable would make Ryouma less displeased with him—Takumi went to the throne room to wait.

After some time, Ryouma casually opened the doors to the throne room, looking amused to find Takumi already there. “I was thinking I'd catch you in the Chamber of the Sword,” Ryouma said, holding up a pair of wooden swords.

Takumi blinked. Then he grinned. “We're going to spar in the Chamber of the Sword?”

“Why shouldn't we?” He tossed one sword to Takumi, who caught it and followed him through the doors.

In the hallowed antechamber, the basket-torches had all been brightly lit, filling the room with light and warmth. Takumi shed the outer layers of his formal outfit, folded it, and laid it in the corner. He took the sword in his hands and gave it a few swings to test its weight and met his brother in the center of the room.

“Are you ready?” said Ryouma.

“Yeah!”

They leveled their swords before them. Takumi read Ryouma's movements well, but something wasn't right. Ryouma easily knocked his sword away and landed point after point. Takumi was bewildered—had he really fallen that far behind while avoiding Hinata over the winter? They went for only half their usual time before Ryouma insisted that they were done.

“Now that we've both returned,” he also said, “we should continue our regular matches.”

Ryouma reverently laid his sword on the floor and knelt to sit, looking at him meaningfully. Takumi followed suit and sat across from him, underclothes soaked in sweat as he caught his breath.

“Do you know why I called you here today, to the Chamber of the Sword?”

Takumi shook his head.

“You know its meaning?” Ryouma said.

“It stands before the throne room, the Chamber of the King, as a place where the king's most worthy swordsman would stop any intruder from reaching his lord,” Takumi recited. “Should the swordsman hold strong, Hoshido holds strong. Should he fall, Hoshido falls.”

Ryouma nodded. “Correct. I recall what you said to me during the war...”

The war, the one in the world they couldn't talk about. “That I wanted to gain the strength to protect you as our king. That I wanted to broaden my abilities and aid you in governance.”

That was why Ryouma had called him to this chamber. To remind him of that. To remind him that he had sworn himself to Hoshido, and he had passed the winter being selfish and useless.

“Indeed,” Ryouma said, “we bear a great duty as leaders of this nation. We are blessed by our birth to have the power to guide the world. We are also bound by it to put our own desires aside for the sake of our people. Faced with adversity, we lay down all that we have so that Hoshido might have a future—even if that might mean throwing away life itself before we betray her.”

“I know,” Takumi said stiffly. He was starting to feel certain that Saizou had told Ryouma all about how Takumi had nearly cracked under the lightest pressure. And this was how Ryouma responded—by reminding him that it was his duty to kill himself before ever letting his mouth turn traitor.

Ryouma was just reminding him about duty and honor like a King and older brother should. But Takumi, thinking upon it, wondered if things might've been better if he'd martyred himself in Chevalier. His death would've been a convenient weapon to silence any irritating official who might dare insinuate that a campaign in the west wasn't worth their time. His sisters and retainers might miss him a little—but Hoshido first.

“I trust your heart is set on the right path,” Ryouma said. “It is only human to at times waver.”

Takumi said quietly, “You've never wavered.”

Ryouma regarded him for a moment. “I cannot appear to waver, Takumi. It does not mean I have not.”

He didn't elaborate, dignified as he was. Takumi wondered if Ryouma meant something as light as crying at their father's second death. It was hard to imagine Ryouma being terrified of the dark, or resenting the way people talked about him, or just doing anything less than making the most out of every day of his life. Here Takumi had even lost a sacred national treasure, and Ryouma was so graceful that he didn't even criticize him for it.

“Well, we should take the time to make ourselves presentable before tonight's feast,” Ryouma said, being the first to rise. 

They passed Kagerou standing guard as they left the chamber. For some reason, as she watched them leave—as impassive as she always was on duty—it felt like she also thought he was a failure.

* * *

Takumi was silent at the feast, consumed by thoughts about Ryouma's absence of failures, his wasted winter, and the relative value of his contributions to Hoshido—as opposed to joining his mother as a symbol and being reborn into a humbler life where he might measure up for once.

Ryouma had meant well. They all did. But what stuck in his head were their words.

After escaping the post-dinner festivities to sit on his bed and stare at the lamp in the corner, Takumi realized that Ryouma's perfection was his imperfection. Ryouma would probably never know the frustration of being betrayed by his own body and unconscious. He thought, he planned, he did, and success had always come naturally to him given enough effort.

Takumi's own weaknesses seemed invulnerable to any amount of conscious effort. If anything, stewing over them seemed to have made them worse in the last few months.

What he really needed was to stop _stewing_. To do something, talk to someone, do anything other than soak in all the garbage infesting his own mind.

His eyes fell on the writing table. 

He had been waiting for a letter to arrive from Leon. He had thought that once Leon was done with the war and ready to start their correspondence again, he would send a letter and they could resume their exchange. But what if the war had broken him of the habit?

What was that Leon had said once? _Running this country is driving me insane, and your letters..._ were keeping him sane, something like that. 

Now their roles were reversed. Takumi desperately needed to read Leon's wry thoughts on—anything. He would've been happy to listen to Leon talk about the weather.

So Takumi got out of bed and knelt at the writing table, grinding up a fresh batch of ink as he thought through the least pathetic letter he could manage.

 

_Salutations._

_The days have been lengthening as the air warms for spring. My family has been doing well and I hope the same holds for yours._

_I heard that you've secured peace for Nohr. If you have time, it would be good to hear from you. I know things got complicated last time we met. I'd like to clear the air between us and start exchanging letters again. What's been on your mind?_

_Please respond at your leisure. Look after yourself and take care of your health._

_Yours,_  
_On the 19th Day of the 3rd Month, Year 4 of the Joined Era_  
                                                                                                                                        _Takumi of Hoshido_  
_To Prince Leon of Nohr_

He had never been good at anything where formality was involved. But it would have to do. Surely Leon was used to the way his writing jerked between stiffness and casualness by now, even if this one was worse than usual.

Takumi rolled up the letter, sealed it and stamped it with wax, and set it aside to give to a messenger the next morning. Then he laid back in bed. The weight of dinner in his stomach made him drowsy, and slipped into sleep trying to imagine what Leon might be doing tonight.

* * *

The letter he received in response would change everything.


	8. Autumn in Hoshido (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning that some characters may be racist/sexist/homophobic and say things according to those views. I think this is the first chapter where this features prominently, but it will appear repeatedly throughout later chapters as well, so I figured I should put that out there.
> 
> Also, there will be no update on 9/25. You know how Chapter 7 was 7000 words long? It effectively sucked up the whole entire lead I had on my update schedule. I did want to leave you all on a happier note, so I scrambled to get this one in on time. I'll need a week to catch back up, so Chapter 9 will be posted on 10/2.

_Dear Takumi,_

_I apologize in advance for the length of this letter. I have been thinking a lot over the last year. As a result, I realized that there are many things I need to say._

When Leon's reply came, Takumi settled down at his table and was surprised to unfurl it into four inkstained sheets of vellum—a patchy wreck of a tale ending with “Love, Leon.”

Takumi stared at the sheer length and uncharacteristic imperfection of what had been entrusted to him, reveling in the idea that on the other side of the world, Leon had also broken down in front of a writing table. 

After a moment of wonder, he finally started reading it from the top. By the time he was done, Takumi was smudging half-formed tears all over the heels of his palms.

He was afraid he'd get some on the letter, and that the words would melt away like his own shredded letter fragments in water. Takumi stood up to grab his handkerchief from where it was tangled in between his sheets. He wiped his face slowly as he went back to the table and gingerly laid each page of Leon's letter to the side.

Then he ground a fresh batch of ink for the letter he had wanted to write all along.

* * *

_I'm given to understand that honor is very important in Hoshido. With the caveat that I take a different perspective, I must say this:_

_Your brother is a tone-deaf ass._

_I, for one, do not think that you have conducted yourself in any way warranting disgrace. Clearly, they were unsuccessful in using you against your country. Besides, didn't you run straight back into the prison to save Elise? I would think that your safe return should be met with a hero's acclaim. What kind of time is that to remind you of death before dishonor?_

From the start of spring, Takumi and Leon exchanged lengthy letters as quickly as the messengers would send them—and often sooner than that, not waiting a month for a response before sending another letter when the mood struck them. 

_The feeling seemed to sour in the months between my return and his. It's all well and fine that I led a successful charge on the prison, but by the end of winter the palace was preoccupied with the state of my hair._

_I think I mind the way people talk about it more than I miss the hair itself. Is that odd? Whenever someone says it's going to grow back, I want to dislocate their jaw._

Leon, as it turned out, was surprisingly soft-hearted underneath his cocky exterior. It shouldn't have surprised Takumi after he had known him for all of this time, especially after that first vulnerable letter. But he was still new to the idea of a Leon who wasn't cool, collected, above the expression of human weakness. So it did surprise him when Leon's replies came back without a hint of mockery.

_I'm surprised to hear that. You did seem to prize your hair. I think I understand the sentiment, however. It's not about the loss so much as the memory it represents—right? Whether or not it grows back, you had suffered at Chevalier. That doesn't change._

Spring, on the whole, was better. 

As the land thawed, Ryouma put Takumi in charge of overseeing the expansion of agriculture. Mozume had instilled a lifetime of respect in him for what farmers did and they were a much more bearable lot than bureaucrats. The farmers overflowed with thanks at his visits as he brought seedlings of new strains of crop. They were eager to share with him all of their thoughts about about how to use Hoshido's undeveloped soil. Each day when Takumi went back to the inn, it was to fall into a futon after disentangling himself from citizens ecstatic to see him take an interest in their work.

If this was what royal responsibility could be, Takumi thought to himself, he could make a decent prince after all.

* * *

Once, he came to a village with no men.

“The messengers told us hardly none died in the war,” the old woman said, her eyes downcast into the tea she served with trembling hands. “'Cept for our men. All in one troop, lost from the start. I s'pose we wronged the gods somehow.”

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Takumi said.

The old woman startled like she was afraid she'd offended him. “Oh no, Your Highness. They were proud to defend the royal family and the fatherland.”

She was trying to comfort him with the thought that their honor could've quelled the sorrow they left behind.

Takumi insisted, “I don't mean to diminish their bravery. I simply mean that—your loss will not be forgotten.”

The words sounded hollow to him, like some line borrowed from his brother's speeches and put in a place where they didn't belong. But the old woman was beside herself at what he said, hiding her wrinkled face in her handkerchief as she heaped praise upon him. 

At times it seemed like the slightest sympathy from him could bring people to their knees. It was strange. 

Her son was dead. He had died during that early, pointless struggle with Nohr. The village would bear the wound of a lost generation no matter what Takumi did. For some reason, despite everything, people seemed to harbor a feverish thirst for his words—as if through him, the gods had granted them leave to mourn.

* * *

_Saying that Nohr is “stable” now is an overstatement. Yes, the rebellion has been dealt with. Russel has been executed, and no one is happy about it. Chevalier loathes me for felling the traitorous figurehead and the court resents me for not extending the sentence to all of his extended family. The Duke of Notre Dia sent us a passive-aggressive letter about how their independence extends to independence from Hoshido and their citizens can privately support terrorists as they please. The governor of Macross has volunteered to “assist” in the reconstruction of Chevalier—how convenient for him that all of our other governors in the area had been killed._

_So to answer the question you kindly haven't asked, I'm not feeling much better. The doctors have placed me on a strict diet of bread and broth. It's made a marginal difference. An alliance with Muse would do more for me. They could benefit from the resources to help rebuild Amusia; we could use their cooperation in keeping trade flowing through the region. Perhaps then I could sleep past dawn without the country burning down._

_However, it's true that things are much better than they could be. The rebellion did not spread across Nohr as we had feared. I had thought that was because of Hoshido's presence throughout the south, but our spies report that the people heard that we had sent ambassadors. For the first time, public opinion leans in our favor._

_Take heart. You may not have prevented the fighting at Chevalier, but you have saved us from a greater war._

* * *

The fields of Hoshido were full and green, with cucumbers and eggplant ripening while rice flowers had just begun to give way to emerging seeds, when Ryouma called him back to the palace for an important announcement. Good news, the letter promised.

“Well, we already know the war is over, and the bridge definitely isn't done yet,” Hinata speculated. He was full of ideas on the entire trip back home. “Oh! I know, he's getting married!”

“Who would he be marrying?” Takumi responded with exasperation.

“Huh. Dunno. Oboro, who do you think Ryouma'd marry?”

Takumi cringed as he shot a glance at Oboro. How had Hinata not noticed the shift in the air between them? Why was he oblivious enough to wave the topic of romance right in her face?

Oboro shrugged. “I don't think I've seen him talk to a woman since the war.”

“Really? Hunh. Maybe he's not getting married. Maybe he's sired a son?”

“Without getting married first?” said Takumi.

“Then he must be getting married!” Hinata exclaimed.

There was no use arguing with Hinata. 

Takumi himself didn't know what to expect. Some part of him was hoping that they'd found the Fuujin-yumi. Aside from the weight of knowing that something so important to his country had been taken from his own hands, he genuinely missed the bow like a beloved horse or hunting dog. He still trained in archery every day with a regular bow, but it wasn't the same. He had a connection with the Fuujin-yumi. He knew its weight in his hands, its smooth tension on the draw, that perfect _something_ that resonated as he formed wind above his fingers. It was such a beautiful bow.

When they finally arrived back at the palace and approached Ryouma, Takumi saw that he wasn't holding onto any large packages. Still, he held onto a faint strand of hope that it was just being held somewhere else, until Ryouma smiled broadly and gave him the news.

“I'm going to be wed in the fall.”

Ryouma looked so hurt when Takumi burst out laughing.

* * *

_I have just the perfect excuse for you to get away from Nohr for a month: You're invited to the King's wedding!_

_I'm serious. It's set for the autumnal equinox and all of you are invited. You should be getting a set of formal invitations soon. If you can find the time, it would be great to see you again._

_So it turns out that while my brother was leaving me to tend to the bureaucrats here at Shirasagi, he was having the time of his life with the Fire Chief's daughter. According to Hinoka, he and Rinka had gotten along pretty well back in the war. Now things have taken off._

_Between you and me, I don't think Rinka is the queenly type. I don't know if I'd trust her to run a household, much less a court. Besides, do you remember the time she wrestled Kagerou to a draw? Don't tell Hinoka I said this, but I can't imagine marrying a woman with more muscle than me. It'd be like going to bed with a man. I don't need to be emasculated by my wife. My brother has mysterious taste._

_Anyway—I know you can hardly find time to rest. I understand if you won't be able to come. But formally speaking, someone from Nohr should attend. It would be an equalizing gesture if that person were a male member of the royal family. You'd be able to turn over the backlog of books you've been promising me, and you'd be able to get away from Elise's puppy._

_It would be a perfectly good decision to come._

* * *

“For the record,” Leon said with his hair still mussed from the carriage, “my brother forbade me from conducting any state business when he sent me here. His way of showing concern, I suppose.”

“Brothers,” Takumi commiserated, a broad grin contradicting his sympathetic tone. “You'll just have to live with being a carefree wedding guest.”

“How will I survive the frivolity?” Leon gave him a cheeky smile and gestured to a servant, who had just hefted a wooden chest out of the back of the carriage. “By the way, while I was picking out the books I'd mentioned, I found that we had extra copies of several others I thought you'd like. I hope you have room.”

Just then, Takumi noticed that Elise had come out of the carriage. She stood at its mouth with a small satchel clutched in her hands. Her hair had been cut to fall in curls down to her shoulders, little black bows parting hair away from her face. Her dress was new, with the skirt going down past her knees. When she noticed that Takumi was looking at her, she quickly looked away and began fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. 

Leon followed his gaze and gave a devilish grin. “Oh, that reminds me. Elise, isn't there something you wanted to say to Prince Takumi?”

“No!” she said immediately.

“Really?” he said in mock surprise. “Wasn't there something about his nice warm—”

“No! Brother!” she cried, shoving him in the back to silence him. “You're the worst!” Elise stormed off by herself, Elfie and Harold hastily following her. Elfie shot a look at Leon, who just continued to grin.

“What was that all about?” Takumi said. “Does she... uh...”

“She does,” Leon said, putting on a cold face even as his eyes continued to glint mischievously. “So you know, if you break her heart, I won't make any exceptions for you.”

“Right. I'll... try not to break her heart.” In between everything else, Takumi had never gotten around to telling Leon about Oboro. Leon shot him a quizzical look, but just then, Ryouma and Rinka emerged to welcome their guests. “I'll tell you later.”

The rascal before him faded, replaced by the Prince of Nohr. Leon bowed to the King of Hoshido and his bride-to-be, and Takumi could only wait for the exchange of greetings and gifts to conclude.

* * *

They had specifically prepared a small set of Nohrian cutlery for their guests, which they set out at the seats reserved for Leon and Elise. While Elise happily lifted up one of the little silver forks to admire it, Leon gave them a bemused look before taking up the pair of chopsticks left beside them.

Takumi watched as Leon pressed the tips of the chopsticks against his plate to align them and opened and closed them tentatively with his long skillful fingers. Since when could Leon use chopsticks? At the same time, Takumi was unsurprised that the arrogant genius would turn up wielding chopsticks like he was born Hoshidan.

When the first course came out, the courtiers quickly noticed and began whispering amongst themselves, awed by the sight of a Nohrian delicately lifting cubes of tofu with chopsticks. Leon pretended he couldn't hear them as he sampled all of the dishes, obviously ignoring his doctors' advice.

What a show-off. When Leon reached to dip his seafood dumpling in the bowl of wasabi, Takumi was tempted to let him just to watch his reaction.

But he wasn't that cruel. Takumi knocked his foot against Leon's under the table and made a show of dipping his dumpling in the soy sauce. Leon, watching him, followed suit.

Toward the end of the feast, Takumi could feel his hairpiece beginning to slip. Oboro usually tightened it for him a few times throughout the day, but things had gotten thrown off when the Nohrians arrived. Takumi excused himself from the meal before anyone could tell that his ponytail was sagging and ducked into an empty dressing room, try to pull the thing back on straight. Whenever Oboro did it, it always seemed so easy—just few quick tugs and she was done.

Takumi pulled at his hair this way and that and it just didn't look right. He was starting to get a sore neck from trying to look at the back of his head in the mirror. 

And the day had been going so well, too. Why did his stupid hair have to get in the way again?

He thought about getting Oboro to help him, but she was at the feast too. After he'd overheard the servants gossiping throughout the winter, he was reluctant to ask any of them to help fetch her—and there was no way he was going to let them touch his hair themselves.

Takumi had decided to just take the hairpiece out and skip the rest of the feast when he heard Oboro's voice in the hallway calling, “Milord?”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Takumi breathed as he slid open the door and waved her over. “The hairpiece is coming out.”

“I cannot apologize enough, milord. If I've caused you any embarrassment...”

“No, not at all.” Takumi turned around and knelt so that she could fix his hair right away. Oboro held it up for a few moments, as if puzzled at how it got to where it was, before working it loose and taking it out altogether. “I shouldn't have gotten carried away with greeting our guests.”

She was silent at that. She had pulled out a comb and worked on brushing his tangled hair back into order. Takumi wondered if she was making a face at being reminded of their Nohrian guests.

“Thanks for coming for me, Oboro. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“You could manage, milord,” Oboro said softly as she worked the hairpiece back in. “You are very capable.”

“It sounds kind of ominous when you say it like that.”

She tightened the tail against his head before deftly wrapping her work in his red ribbon. Normally, Takumi would've expected her to sputter reassurances about how her praise was wholesome and true. 

She didn't. But then, nothing was normal right now.

“There we go,” she said. “Looking great.”

* * *

The rest of dinner went without a hitch. Takumi filed out of the dining room first. Leon had been rapidly accosted by curious diners who wanted to know how he'd gotten to be good at chopsticks, as if the answer could be anything other than manual dexterity and practice.

A ways from the crowd, Takumi waited for Leon to emerge. Ryouma and Rinka passed by first, exchanging curt nods with him. They had managed to stuff Rinka into a loose two-layered approximation of a court lady's kimono for her public appearances, and it never failed to look wrong on her. Then Sakura and Elise passed by. Elise nervously glanced at him while trying not to be obvious as Sakura gave a little wave. Takumi waved back, wondering if the two of them talked about him. He hoped Sakura wouldn't tell Elise anything embarrassing about him. Not that he had any intention of courting Elise—but he certainly didn't mind if she thought he was amazing.

Coming to think of it, Elise hadn't been her usual obnoxious self during dinner. Maybe she was behaving in front of him. Maybe she had grown up. 

His retainers came to wait with him, Hinata drunk off the atmosphere and Oboro clearly done with her partner, but he told them that he'd be fine and they could enjoy their evening. They lingered a little longer, insisting that tending to him was their pleasure, before they were ultimately lured away by the promise of a wild game of cards with the retainers accompanying various other minor lords.

Shortly after they left to play freely with other retainers, Takumi caught sight of the other young prince finally crossing the hall to meet him, his arms crossed behind his back as he strode with his chest high and his back straight. Leon always looked so stately when he walked.

“Done impressing everyone?”

Leon scoffed. “I learned how to use chopsticks so I _wouldn't_ make a spectacle of myself. If I'd known this would happen, I would've just used the forks.”

“People just aren't used to seeing Nohrians being good at Hoshidan customs,” Takumi said.

“So I've gathered.”

Maybe Leon was cranky from stomach pain. Takumi decided to change the subject. “So how long has Elise been crushing on me?”

Leon's grin was back at that. “About a year? Since—you know. Out of the blue, she started asking me about you, like what your hobbies were and if you were courting anyone.”

“Subtle.”

“It's Elise,” Leon said with a nonchalant tilt of his head. “That's subtle for her. Well, it's her first time falling for someone... she'll learn to be more discreet. Which reminds me—what was that you said about being a heartbreaker?”

“Don't say it like that,” Takumi groaned. “I'm not _trying_ to break anyone's heart.”

“That's what Laslow used to say,” Leon said with a complete lack of sympathy.

“Let's talk about this somewhere else,” Takumi said, gesturing to the stragglers milling out into the hallway. “I don't want this to become tomorrow's gossip.”

“Sure. What were you planning on doing this evening?”

Takumi shrugged. “Nothing much. Anything's fine.” 

They exchanged glances.

“Library?” Takumi proposed.

“I was just about to suggest that.”

* * *

They hid themselves away in a corner of the library, vacant while the palace's occupants busied themselves with preparations for the coming wedding. The servants had already helpfully sorted the books Leon brought onto a shelf, right next to the two that he had invited Takumi to take home after the war.

In a quiet voice, as the two of them sifted through the books looking for the best candidate for the evening, Takumi told Leon about how Oboro had confessed in a way that left him little room to disappoint her, and how everything had been awkward ever since. 

“That does sound unfortunate. Being able to rely on your retainers is extremely important. Sounds troublesome to have infatuation get in the way.”

“Yeah,” Takumi said. “I guess you wouldn't have that problem, with yours being men.”

Leon gave a snort at that, saying, “Zero makes advances toward both men and women, and I'm no exception.”

“What, seriously? He always seems to behave himself around you.”

“He didn't at first. He tested my patience sorely in the first few months I took him on. ...But, no, I haven't had to turn down someone who loved me like that. Lucky me.” Leon seemed to finally make a decision at that, pulling out one book from a shelf near the top. “I think I have just the book. Here.”

“The Reception?” Takumi read.

“A group of ancient Amusian philosophers gather after a dinner party to ponder the nature of love. It's perfect.”

Takumi laughed. “That _is_ perfect.” Takumi made himself comfortable kneeling on a cushion next to a lamp by the wall. Leon plunked down next to him, sitting on his bottom and crossing his legs in front of him—he always looked so crass to Takumi when he did that, but it was kind of endearing by now.

“Although I must warn you,” Leon said, “the ancients Amusians were also deviants.”

“Hm?”

“You'll see what I mean. It's worth reading nevertheless. It offers some interesting perspectives on love and the prose is fun besides. Generally speaking, the author was also rather influential upon later Nohrian thinkers.”

“I see,” Takumi said, carefully opening the book to read. He was always cautious around Nohrian books—the pages felt thin in his hands and he felt like he'd rip them if he turned too fast. Leon quieted to let him concentrate, scooting closer to read along with his head craned at an angle. As Takumi waded through the opening passage of men meeting on a road, setting the scene for the conversation to take place, Leon stretched out, cracked his neck, and gently tugged the book toward the space between them.

It was likely—Takumi didn't want to admit—that he never would have understood the text without Leon's help, but there was never any need to admit anything. Just as his eyes would pause on an unfamiliar name, Leon would point to a line on the page and tell him about the myths and heroes that it seemed so fond of referencing. 

“These two,” Leon said of a pair of characters called lovers, “were heroes in a classic war epic. This one is known for dying. The other is known for avenging him.”

“Him,” Takumi repeated, scanning the page again with this new knowledge. “Wait—is this passage arguing that love between men is purer than between man and woman?”

“Yes. I told you. Well, to be fair to them, it wasn't a carnal thing. They were very separated from women in their time. They married women for the sake of creating a family, but they studied, worked, and fought alongside men alone.”

“So it was only other men they'd share experiences with and understand,” Takumi finished. Leon nodded. “I guess I can see that.”

As Takumi looked at Leon right next to him, arm against his, half a book in his lap, there was a glimmer of a thought in the back of his mind that they were kind of like that—somehow finding themselves in a shared part of the universe where no one else seemed to be. He wondered if Leon was thinking the same thing.

“You'd be the one who dies first,” Leon said with a grin.

“Wow, thanks,” Takumi grumbled, not exactly disagreeing.


	9. Autumn in Hoshido (Part 2)

The precious few days they had together leading up to the wedding seemed to pass too quickly. When the morning of the wedding came in overcast and humid, Takumi half hoped that it would storm for several days and force Leon to stay a little longer. 

It was a childish thought, of course. And Orochi said it wouldn't rain.

The wedding was held in traditional Hoshidan style on the palace grounds. There was a little unpleasantness when the guests from the Fire Clan—turning up to the wedding in their own style of dress that showed far too much skin—had to be provided sets of black kimono at short notice. Oboro pitched in to help the servants modify several scavenged pieces to the emissaries' size. The servants were harried, the emissaries were unhappy, the Fire Chief wouldn't don a kimono and no one dared contradict him, and altogether the last-minute rush on the morning of the wedding struck Takumi as being painfully typical of these kinds of events. 

As a prince of Hoshido, he was obligated to remain by Ryouma's side as they waited through the delay. Given the timing of the announcement, Takumi had previously wondered if Ryouma and Rinka had been a match made of political convenience. But for nearly an hour, while he had nothing to do but to observe them sitting together, he saw Ryouma—silent and stoic in propriety—take her hand and run his thumb across her knuckles. It was such a strange thing to see from his brother. It was like something an old man would do to calm his wife.

When everything was finally ready, the priests led them in a procession across the grounds to the shrine to be joined. Rinka walked ungracefully, still a warrior in her bridal robes of purity. Takumi, who followed right behind them, hoped that this wouldn't incite a fresh round of nasty gossip—because, as much as he didn't care for Rinka as Queen, it was apparent that his brother loved her. 

At the shrine, they underwent the rites of marriage: purification, prayer, dance, and three rounds of three sips from a cup of wine. They exchanged vows and rings, looking tenderly at each other—it was the only time Takumi had ever seen Rinka looking tender—before extending the wine to their relatives to share as a new family. Takumi took his sip and passed the cup to Rinka's father, trying not to stare at the state of his undress as the Fire Chief accepted the cup, took a sip, and passed it to Hinoka on his other side.

From there, the quiet, solemn ceremony was soon over and they were all led back to the palace for the raucous reception.

* * *

There were five large tables laid out in the palace's largest hall, little cards dictating seating arrangements for the evening. As a member of the royal family, Takumi was given a place at the head table—but of course he was put next to Hinoka and some of the more unpleasant nobles in attendance. Evidently they were to be kept far away from the Fire Clan guests that Yukimura must have felt it urgent to appease. Leon and Elise's seating cards laid a few seats down on the opposite side of the table, just short of the diplomatic buffer zone created by the the seating of the most even-tempered nobles alongside Sakura, who always won over hearts, and Orochi, who was infectiously cheerful at gatherings.

In principle, Takumi understood why Yukimura placed him where his temper could do the least damage. The wedding seemed to be devolving into a complicated diplomatic situation. Still, he wasn't pleased to be put next to Lord Shintarou. The middle-aged aristocrat was known for injecting his extremist politics into virtually any setting yet couldn't be alienated due to the influence of his house.

Takumi tried to focus on the deliciousness of the food, but Lord Shintarou seemed insistent on talking to him. “It's a shame that those people insist on having their way in the court of His Majesty himself. You needn't cater to their every whim.”

“I'm not involved in the wedding preparations,” Takumi said, wishing he'd take a hint.

“Nevertheless. It's a concern that extends beyond this celebration,” he continued. “We draw a truce with Nohr and the next day, our own King takes to the streets in their garb? I worry that Hoshido has lost its pride in itself.”

Takumi's eyes flickered past Shintarou to Leon, who seemed immersed in conversation with the people around him. Thankful that Leon hadn't heard, Takumi said, “We've formed an _alliance_ with Nohr. Fostering friendship between our nations requires that we accept their ways.”

“Friendship is mere metaphor. Our traditions are being consumed by this foreign invasion. You must take care to preserve them, Prince. This culture is yours to safeguard.”

How dare this upstart lord suggest that he was obligated by his position to agree? Takumi pinched his chopsticks too hard on a sliver of fish, making its delicate fibers split apart onto his plate. “Yes, I am a prince, and as Prince I support the king in this matter.”

He felt Hinoka lay a warning hand on his leg, concealed by the tablecloth. Takumi glanced at her to find that she was also clenching her jaw. She barely kept her silence by stuffing her mouth with one bite of food followed immediately by the next.

Shintarou looked vaguely displeased at Takumi's response. “I am only concerned for Hoshido, Your Highness.” 

When he spoke again, it was to repeat the same obnoxious sentiments to the lord sitting at his other side. From snatches of their increasingly inflammatory conversation that Takumi couldn't tune out—“warmongering deep in the Nohrian consciousness”—“the crafty nature of their kind”—it seemed like the other lord either agreed with Lord Shintarou or was willing to play along.

And when he glanced at Leon again, he had fallen into eating quietly with a neutral expression.

Leon had heard.

His anger from earlier rekindled, Takumi turned to Shintarou and said, “You're at a wedding. Would it kill you to have some respect for the other guests?”

Shintarou broke off his conversation to stare at Takumi. Hinoka, as if agreeing that Shintarou had gone much too far, did not try to hold him back.

“Your Highness, I am merely keeping conversation.”

“You're insulting half of the people seated at this very table,” Takumi said. “If we're going to talk about dishonoring Hoshido, you could do no worse than what's coming out of your mouth right now.”

“I have the restraint not to attack present company,” Shintarou retorted.

“You _have been_ attacking present company!” At that, he felt Hinoka kick him under the table. Takumi noticed that he was leaning forward like he was about to strike. He pulled himself back at that reminder, still not touching his food.

“I've been discussing matters of state. Would you forbid me that?”

“Lord Shintarou,” Hinoka cut in, “we all have enough to worry about tonight. Could we speak of lighter things?”

Shintarou looked at Hinoka contemptuously before settling back into his chair. “Yes, forgive me, Princess. We should not have brought you discomfort with men's talk.”

“What did you just say?!” 

Hinoka shot up from her seat, rightfully earning her place at their end of the table, and now it was Takumi's turn to hiss, “ _Sister_ —come on, Ryouma's looking at us!”

She looked to the center of the table to find that Ryouma was indeed giving them a pointed look. Still seething with gritted teeth, Hinoka sat back down. Shintarou gave a smug little smirk as he returned to his food, as if Ryouma's disapproval had been directed toward Hinoka and Takumi alone.

Takumi did sympathize with Hinoka. He would've liked to challenge Shintarou to a duel out back and slice the smirk off of his face.

“Come now, come now,” Orochi said loudly as she came over to them, shotglass in hand, walking with the caution of someone who knew they were deep in drink. She hovered between Shintarou and Takumi, smiling merrily. “Let us be pleasant tonight. 'Tis a momentous occasion for the King and his bride.”

None of them felt much more pleasant at Orochi's behest. 

“Lord Shintarou!” she said, touching him lightly on one shoulder. “I do recall attending your own wedding to the most lovely Lady Tsume. Ah, what a wedding it was!”

“I don't believe it was remarkable,” he said quickly. Takumi looked on with curiosity.

“Nay, how could one ever forget? 'Tis scarce to find a groom so enticed by his bride that his body could not wait for night to come.”

Takumi laughed along with the rest of the table at Shintarou's expense. Shintarou stoically ate his rice.

“Ah, and dear Prince Takumi,” Orochi said, putting her other hand on his shoulder. “When will I have the pleasure of attending your wedding? It seems like just yesterday that I held your hand en route to the privy. Well, I'm certain there's a woman somewhere who wouldn't mind a man afraid of the dark.”

The table laughed and Takumi's breath caught in his throat. Did Orochi have any idea—? Did she even know what she'd just said? She had been away for the whole winter. Had the gossip spread that far? Did they all whisper about the childish prince who had come back from Nohr needing a lamp? 

Distantly, he registered that Orochi patted his shoulder once before moving onto Hinoka, but he didn't hear a word of her tale.

They had no idea what Chevalier had done to him.—But even that surge of anger died at the thought that they wouldn't have cared anyway, would've laughed at his tepid imprisonment, and—gods, Takumi didn't want to be in front of them right now.

Aware that he must have looked strange in his trance, Takumi took the bowl that had been in his line of sight and served himself a piece of steamed fish. Orochi said her farewells as the table cheered her back to her seat. Takumi pressed his chopsticks against each layer of soft meat until it had been completely separated on his plate.

* * *

After Ryouma announced that the guests could leave at their leisure, Takumi rose and fell in behind several others who chose to leave right then. He followed them into the main hall, breaking off at the stairs and beginning the long ascent to his bedroom.

“Takumi?”

Takumi paused and peered over the railing. Down at the bottom of the stairs, Leon wandered over, looking up the stairwell at that instant as if he'd felt Takumi's gaze.

“I'm headed to my bedroom,” Takumi said as Leon began to follow him up the stairs.

“Oh.” Leon lingered uncertainly on his step, his dark eyes earnest. “Should I leave you to it?”

“No,” Takumi said, having no idea what the hell he was saying. “You can come.”

Leon caught up and followed him all the way to his room. Takumi slid open the door, gaze lingering on the lamp that the servants had lit in the corner. He had come to hate that lamp. And yet he couldn't do without it.

Sighing, he left his slippers at the door, indelicately pulled the hairpiece out and tossed it onto his bureau, then flopped into his bed. Leon likewise left his slippers there before coming in. He took in the room with careful sweeps of his eyes before inviting himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I didn't know you had beds,” Leon said, testing the mattress with one hand.

“The royal family does,” Takumi said.

“Hm.” Takumi hadn't expected that Leon would then invite himself to lay down along the edge of the bed right next to him. “This is quite nice. Here I'd thought you all slept on the floor.”

“I sleep in a futon whenever I travel,” Takumi said, not sure why he felt compelled to say it. “Is it that bad?”

“Yes. Every time I visit Hoshido, my back aches worse than when I've been sleeping in camps, and my knees are sore besides.”

“I didn't know you were so delicate.”

Leon let out a single laugh, turning on his side to regard Takumi with amusement on his face. “Next time I'll count the number of times you complain about chairs.”

Takumi let out a soft “ugh” sound, turning his head away from him, but couldn't help but smile. How did Leon have that effect? He hated it when people made fun of him.

“But you know,” Leon said, “it was satisfying to watch you tear into that windbag.”

“Oh. Him? Yeah, I wish we didn't have to invite him.” Takumi shifted himself onto his side to mirror Leon so that they looked at each other from opposite pillows. It was a little strange to have Leon on his bed. He hadn't shared a bed with anyone since he had last crawled into Aqua's bed as a child. “I swear, most Hoshidans don't think that.”

Leon's expression mellowed.

Takumi tried, “I mean, they know you didn't have any control over King Garon's reign.”

“Please don't say that.”

At that distance it was impossible to miss the sadness passing across Leon's face.

“Sorry,” Takumi said, burying his big dumb mouth in his pillow. “Hydra's.”

He heard Leon sigh, followed by a rustle of fabric next to him.

“Wait,” Takumi said reflexively, lifting his head only to find that Leon had merely rearranged himself to lay reclined upon the pillow, hands crossed atop his stomach. Leon looked at him with eyebrows slightly raised. “Never mind. Sorry. It's been a long day.”

“Agreed,” Leon said. The bright square lamp was reflected in each of his dark eyes as he gazed contemplatively toward the corner. “My stomach had been feeling better until tonight. Maybe it's not overwork. Maybe it's getting angry at petty officials that does it.”

“Your stomach's rising?” Takumi said, thinking it was a clever pun.

“Hm?”

“You know, the expression. Stomach rising. As in getting angry.”

Leon let a wry smile lick at his tired face. “We don't have that expression in Nohr, but it sounds accurate.” The joke had been funnier in his head. “Did I ever tell you about the time I convinced Marx that 'blowing' was the fashionable word for inviting a girl to a dance?”

“What does it actually mean?”

“Ah...” Leon cleared his throat and said, “Oral sex.”

Takumi could feel blood rising to his face. Thank the gods that his face was half-hidden in his pillow. “Wow. A-and he believed you?”

“Marx only ever socialized with old men,” Leon said, “so yes, he believed me. A week later the court couldn't stop talking about how he'd asked a girl if he could blow her.”

“Wow,” Takumi repeated. It was funnier than he let on, but he was just too tired and vaguely shocked to laugh too hard.

“I assure you, he deserved it.”

“Yeah. I wish I'd thought of something like that. The best I ever got Ryouma was writing him fake love letters.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I copied off of Sakura's handwriting and finished it with a puff of Orochi's perfume. It was a masterpiece. It had him waiting under the cherry trees all night. I _mean_ all night. I went to check on him at sunrise and he was still there.”

And Takumi had felt bad for him, so he told him that he'd written the letter. Ryouma, the traitor, had dragged him straight to Orochi for a spanking. Fortunately, she thought it was funny and let him off with the lightest pats she'd ever dealt his bottom.

Orochi had always loved laughing at people.

“I wish I could've seen it,” Leon said, eyes half-lidded, looking strangely content.

Takumi watched the lamplight flicker in Leon's eyes. He was sure by now that Leon had come to keep him company, despite how spent he seemed himself. Leon was too kind to him and he didn't know why.

Leon noticed his staring and returned his gaze questioningly. “I was thinking of snuffing the lamp,” Takumi said.

“If you want,” Leon said.

Takumi laid there for a moment longer, gathering willpower, before twisting all at once to bound off the bed and to the lamp in the corner. Just as he slid the lamp open, Leon said like an afterthought, “Though you don't have to.”

“I'm doing it.”

He blew out the flame and closed the front before its afterimage had faded from his eyes. He carefully felt his way back to his bed in the darkness, mindful of Leon's presence as he climbed back in and reclined against the wall.

It was unusually dark—his room remained pitch black, without even outlines illuminated. When he looked at his window all he could see were the stars in the sky. Of course it happened to be the night of the new moon. The universe had never failed to spite him before.

“Maybe I should've let you find your way to the door first,” Takumi said.

Leon made a noncommittal sound and a burst of blue light blinded Takumi. When his eyes adjusted, he saw that it was a small flicker of magic pulsing in Leon's hand. “I'll manage,” Leon said, closing his hand and dispersing the magic with a flick of his wrist.

“Wish I could do that,” Takumi said.

“I can teach you tomorrow,” Leon said. “We still have one more day.”

The cloth underneath him jerked, and Takumi curled his legs onto his pillow so that Leon could lift up the blanket. “Making yourself comfortable?”

“Actually, your bed isn't as comfortable as I thought. It's much too hard.” He heard Leon rearrange himself under the blanket despite his own words. “I'm just cold. I should be going soon. Need to make sure that Elise isn't sneaking out...”

“All right,” Takumi said, having a premonition that Leon wasn't going anywhere. True, it was getting cold in his room. Takumi pulled the blanket up to his chest as he sat on his pillow, not wanting to lay back down yet. “I'm sorry our meetings keep turning out like this.”

“I thought this time was pretty nice,” Leon's voice floated over in the dark. “Even the wedding was tolerable. Last year was something else altogether.”

“Yeah.” 

Takumi gazed at the window, a neat rectangle of stars cut into the darkness. Leon breathed very quietly, audible in the silence of his room, high and distant from where the wedding party continued. It all felt different from the usual ambience of his room at night. Having someone else there was strange. It occurred to Takumi that it would be embarrassing if he made noises in his sleep while Leon was there, but for some reason he wasn't worried about it.

It was like he was in another world for that moment, one where he could say anything.

“Last year, you know that time, I—”

He needed to take a breath. Beside him, somewhere in the dark, Leon was listening.

“I felt like they could do anything to me, in Chevalier. They had me trapped. They could starve me if they wanted to. I mean, they kind of did. They could do whatever they wanted to me. And just knowing that, being totally alone and weak—it, it really scared me.”

Leon made an attentive sound, dampened in his throat. He had shifted in the bed somehow, his breathing more awake. 

Feeling self-conscious all over again, Takumi said, “Though I guess that's nothing new for you.”

Leon let a breath out through his nose. “I'm familiar with the feeling. Though I wouldn't put it like that.”

“It was just two weeks, it's been a year and I'm still hung up over it, it's so stupid.”

“Takumi,” Leon said, “you can't expect it to proceed on schedule.”

“I'm not expecting it to proceed on schedule. Every time something happens to me, this is how I end up, I'm just sick of always being weak! I don't know how you do it.”

There was a moment of silence, occupied by the nothing of the dark and the sound of his own ragged breathing. Then he heard shifting next to him, and the sound of Leon's robes brushing against the wall.

Blue light burst into his vision, and Takumi hastily covered his face with his hands. “Don't.”

The light went away. Takumi fished his handkerchief out from under his pillow and wiped his hands free of his stupid pathetic tears.

Leon touched a hand to his shoulder. “You overestimate me, you know.”

“What's there to overestimate?” Takumi said with a hint of bitterness. “Your father tried to kill you and then he gets eaten right in front of you, and you can go on leading your country like nothing ever happened.”

Leon's fingers flinched away. He sucked in a sharp breath. “For heaven's sake, _why would you say that to me_?”

Filled immediately with regret, Takumi said, “Because I—Gods. Leon. Leon, I'm sorry.”

“That's exactly what I meant! I am so—broken up over that and I've been trying to tell you—”

“I'm a jealous idiot, I shouldn't have said that—”

“I _loved_ my father. I finally had a reason for why he changed—then we came back and we could never could explain to anyone else.” Takumi sat there paralyzed. He had seen this side of Leon in letters, but he had never imagined it with this raw strain in his voice. “We put on a funeral that people only attended for appearances—throughout the whole thing they kept saying that it was for the better. They thought there was no body because _we'd_ done it.”

Takumi thought about what he could say to undo the hurt he'd dealt, in the moment that Leon paused, but couldn't find an answer by the time he spoke again.

“I couldn't even do it when he could've killed my brothers and sisters—I was terrified of him but—he used to carry me on his shoulders and everything I did was good enough for him...”

Leon drew in a long inhale. Takumi wanted to reach out to offer comfort but was scared to touch him.

When Leon spoke again, he was more composed. “So—I hate how people talk about him.”

“I'm sorry, Leon. I had no idea.”

The sound faint like Leon was looking away from him, he heard, “I only have myself to blame for that.”

Takumi tentatively reached out in the dark and his fingers found Leon's back. Leon flinched away at first but before Takumi could take his hand back, his fingers had made contact again and Leon seemed to accept it. So Takumi laid his hand there. 

“No, I should've noticed by now,” Takumi said.

“Actually—I should apologize for lashing out. I know it's been a bad night for you...”

“It's fine. It's been a bad night for both of us.”

Leon's back was warm under his hand, slender muscle and bony spine, utterly human. 

“It was nice, though,” Takumi said.

“Getting to have that conversation,” Leon finished. He snaked his own hand up to Takumi's shoulder in an awkward show of reciprocation.

They stayed like that for a moment, the position a little uncomfortable, but each unwilling to be the first to pull away.

Finally, Takumi said, “I think I might try to sleep.” He untangled their arms and slid down into the blankets. “Are you going soon?”

“After I've calmed down some more.” Leon likewise settled down in the bed. “I swear I don't usually go on like that.”

“I know.”

Leon was there, brushing lightly against the sheets as he made himself comfortable, smelling of mint and himself. That thought hovered at the edge of Takumi's awareness as he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep to the sound of Leon's breathing.

Leon was there. Leon was there.


	10. Autumn in Hoshido (Part 3)

When the sun had just begun to rise, Takumi awoke in a panic to the realization that Leon was still in his bed—waking Leon, who was also alarmed to discover that he'd fallen asleep.

Fortunately the guard was asleep from the night's revelry. Carrying his sandals in one hand, Leon tip-toed down the hall in his socks, passing the dozing guard cautiously. When he reached the stairs, he gave a victorious wave.

Takumi waved back. Then he quietly slid the door shut and flopped back into his bed to sleep until a sensible hour.

It only occurred to Takumi afterward that he had slept soundly through the night.

* * *

He woke again, at a more reasonable hour, when Oboro came by to help with his hair.

Gently combing the night's tangles out of his hair, she deliberately ran the comb through one side of his head, wooden teeth gently passing over the skin above his ear, and then the other. Takumi started to wonder if word about Leon had gotten out after all when she said, “I have a favor to ask of you, milord.”

“Sure. What is it, Oboro?”

With the comb folded under one palm and his hairpiece held in the other, Oboro knelt down next to him. “Do you remember how you obtained a commission for me from Lady Kotori for a new set of summer clothes, shortly after the war?”

“The white one with blue-green highlights on the sleeves that looked kind of like bird wings?”

“Yes! I'm so flattered that you remember!”

“Your designs are always memorable. But go on.”

“Well—Lady Kotori came to me during the wedding reception.... You know, she works with city development and restoration. She told me that she had recently acquired a large part of the Momijisandou Ward, including... the building that used to be my parents' store.”

“It was sold to their rivals, right?”

“An apprentice of their rivals, I think. It sounds like they didn't do very well. When sales dropped during the war, they sold it to some speculators and it's been vacant ever since. Lady Kotori wants to revitalize the neighborhood, and... she came to me with this _amazing_ offer. She said she thinks my work would improve the reputation of the Ward, and that if I cleaned the place up and started business within two months, I could have the place for free.”

“Wow. That's an incredible opportunity.”

“Isn't it!?” Oboro beamed a lopsided smile that faded into a look of unease. She gnawed briefly on her lower lip before saying, “But if I take the offer, milord, I might spend days away from your side. If something were to come up....”

The depths of Oboro's self-sacrifice could have killed him with guilt. “No, take the offer.”

“Milord—”

“If business doesn't suit you, you're always welcome to come back and serve full-time. But I'm forbidding you to pass on this chance on my account, understood?”

She looked at him with an echo of the smile from before, eyes glassy—a look full of longing for the life they wouldn't share together.

“Understood, milord.” Oboro smoothed his hairpiece out onto her lap, passing her fingers over its strands. “I... I thought I would teach you how to put this on.”

For years she had looked after him. Although she would continue in her post, it felt in that moment as if she were somehow making a departure. She needed to find her own life, and he needed to take hold of his own. “Thank you for looking after me, Oboro.” He placed a hand over hers that held the comb. “I think it's time I learned how.”

* * *

Having successfully avoided scandal, Takumi and Leon met up at breakfast and crept off to find a quiet place in the courtyard where no one would come bother them with political matters on their last day together. A light drizzle had fallen overnight, and the sun shone vigorously through a few patchy lingering clouds. The foliage in the palace grounds glittered with lingering moisture, and every now and then as they walked, water would drip down from the branches over their heads. With Leon carefully shielding the tome he brought, they settled on a quiet gazebo that laid over a small pond concealed by flourishing trees and vines.

The tome, Leon explained, was for introducing Takumi to magic—“You can't summon magic to your hand out of nowhere. You need to have a sense for the feel of magic first.”—but even after an hour, Takumi had barely managed to roll a persimmon off of the railing with gusts of wind from the Bandit's Tome.

“What am I doing wrong?!” Takumi had made an unusual effort to be patient, but Leon kept giving him vague advice about _feeling the magic_ and _relaxing on the release_ and after an hour he could only summon enough power to cause mild distress to a butterfly.

“I can't say for certain—” Leon began.

Takumi shoved the tome at him. “Demonstrate for me again.”

“I keep telling you, it doesn't work like that.” Leon accepted the tome anyway. With a quick flip of the pages, a vortex of wind blew through, scattering leaves into their hair and shooting the fruit far and straight over the pond. When it dropped into the water, it was so far away that all they could see was the ripple.

Takumi brushed the leaves out of his hair and sighed.

“Takumi—here.” Leon drew a wisp of magical energy from the tome, faintly visible in the daylight, and held it before Takumi in his hand. “Feel this.”

Takumi put his hand in the space over Leon's. “Like this?”

“Yes. Do you feel that?”

Takumi tried to feel something. He could see the faint light of magic licking about Leon's hand, like fire curving around a log. He could hear the sound of the trees rustling in the wind and two far-off birds singing to each other. He could smell the wood of the gazebo, the crisp water of the pond, and the Wind Clan mixture that Leon wore to ward off the sun. 

He didn't seem to feel anything unusual in his hand, but for the stiffness of holding it still in mid-air for so long.

“No,” Takumi finally admitted.

The light dispersed, and Leon bent to set the tome on the floor, visibly hiding impatience. “Give me your hand.” Leon took Takumi's hands between his own, wrapping them in faint blue light. “There. Do you feel that?”

Leon's palms were slightly damp and cool, as they always were. The callouses of his sword hand brushed against the back of Takumi's hand, and the softness of the other laid under his palm. There was something there—like the heightened sensitivity of skin right after soaking in a hot spring, or the rush of looking over the capital from high up in the upper floors of the palace. “I think so.”

“You think so?” Leon gave a bemused smile like he was humoring him. “What does it feel like, then?”

Takumi tried to find a word for it and failed. “Pleasant?”

“...Pleasant?” Leon burst into laughter. He let go of Takumi's hand and picked the tome back up. “Never mind. I believe you have dysmagia, and your frustrations are no fault of your own.”

“I have what?” Takumi said, bristling at the suggestion that he had some kind of condition.

“Magic numbness. You can't feel magic, so it's unusually difficult for you to wield it. Don't worry, it's rather common.”

“Well, what's it supposed to feel like?” 

Leon considered this carefully, fiddling with a bit of magic in one hand before answering, “A little chilly. Piercing, like it goes where it pleases and your skin is no boundary. Like there's a draft blowing straight through your flesh.”

So there was no loss, really, in not being able to feel it. “Sounds creepy.”

“It is at first. It's invariably described as cold, raw, or stinging by the inexperienced, although by now I wouldn't disagree with 'pleasant'.” Leon could go on forever about magic. Seeming to realize that Takumi had lost interest, he said, “Coming to think of it, I'm surprised. I thought your bow must draw off of something like magic.”

Takumi shook his head. “No, everything with the Fuujin-yumi was very—disciplined? It was a matter of knowing what shooting should feel like: how much give the string should have, how long the arrow should be.... If you knew in your heart exactly what you wanted, it would respond.” He sighed. “I miss that bow.”

“It sounds like what some people think magic is like.”

“I can't decide if you're making fun of me right now.”

“I'm not,” said Leon as he leaned against the railing of the gazebo. The outline of his slender back traced a pleasing arc against the flatness of the railing. Takumi joined him, gazing out over the jade-green pond. The shadows of the surrounding trees—some green with little orange persimmon fruits, some still blue-green and sculpted into round forms, some a deep brilliant red—cut an intricate silhouette into the glassy surface of the water. Takumi wondered if Leon envied the beauty that they had here.

“Teach me archery,” Leon said.

“Sure.” Takumi raised his eyebrows. “But I thought you didn't want me to. Something about not wanting to make a fool of yourself?”

“That was three years ago,” Leon said dismissively. “Shooting poorly won't be the most foolish thing you've seen me do.”

He could be so self-depreciating about opening up. “I still don't think I've ever seen you look _foolish_...”

“Come now, Takumi. No one's memory is that short.”

“No, wait. There was the time you dropped a piece of octopus on your lap and freaked out when it started moving.”

“What—” Leon went red. “That is _not_ what I meant.”

Takumi laughed and slapped him on the back. “The archery range is on the other side of the palace grounds. Let's catch lunch first.”

* * *

They stepped down from the gazebo onto the little curving bridge, crossing together to the stone path that wound through the grounds. “I can't believe it's your last day already,” Takumi said as they passed through the trees. “Who knows when we'll get to see each other again?”

“Well,” Leon said, holding the tome closer to his chest as the leaves dripped on them, “it might be sooner than you think.”

Takumi perked up at that. “Really? You'll have the time?”

Leon gave him a little wicked smile. “You would have me speak of state business, Takumi? Defy my brother?”

“Cut it out. When do I get to come over?”

“In the spring, if all goes well,” Leon said. “It's still in the works, but we're negotiating my marriage to the daughter of the Duke of Muse.”

Takumi stopped. Leon slowed to a stop a few steps ahead, looking back for him. “You're getting married and you almost didn't tell me?” Takumi said in disbelief.

“First of all, I don't know for sure that I'm getting married,” Leon said, “and I was going to tell you once it was official.”

“I thought we were friends! Don't I get to know _before_ it's official?”

Not at all playing to Takumi's lighthearted tune, Leon sighed, “I don't know why you're so offended. It's like signing a contract. That's all it is.”

Takumi was about to press his point, but it was clear that Leon had little love for the topic. So instead he started walking again—Leon followed suit. When the silence had grown awkward, he ventured, “You don't sound too happy about it.”

“It's not exactly what I imagined for myself,” Leon admitted. “I had always thought of these arrangements as a relic from my grandfather's generation. I knew it was a possibility that I'd have to do it... but I had it in my mind that I might meet someone who made my heart sing, and we'd make a loving family.”

He angled his head slightly in thought, the sweep of his short hair flowing beautifully into the curved outline of his jaw. It was difficult at times to understand how he had gone loveless for so long.

* * *

Leon turned out to be a disgustingly good beginner with the bow. As envious as Takumi was, it was difficult to begrudge him for it. Leon seemed so happy with himself when his arrows landed in neat little groupings on the target. 

Not wanting to embarrass Leon with his own shooting, Takumi stood to the side and watched him: the angle of his arm holding the bow, his right hand feeling for the proper tension as he drew back the string, the pale back of Leon's neck. On dancing girls it was where the color of their flesh shone through—Leon was starch-white there too, with a feathering of golden hair a shade darker than the top of his head.

“How long have you been doing archery?” Leon said conversationally, knocking him out of that odd train of thought. Leon's arrow joined the others in a cluster to the upper right.

“Since I was about six. I would have started when I was four, but I insisted on taking up the sword at the time.”

“Hm,” Leon said, carefully drawing back another arrow. He worked so slowly that it was a little painful for Takumi to watch. “I didn't know you had experience with the sword.”

His arrow struck the second ring on the other side of the target.

“Don't adjust your aim,” Takumi interjected. “Just work on consistency first.”

“You can tell?” Leon smiled sheepishly as he nocked another arrow.

“I can tell. —Anyway, I'm all right with the sword in tournament-style dueling.” He watched Leon's arrow join the first group. “When I was four I wanted to be just as good with the sword as my big brother. Then I realized that there was only one divine sword in the family.”

“So you took up the bow so you wouldn't have to compete,” Leon finished.

Takumi sighed. It sounded so pathetic out loud. “Yeah.”

“To be honest, that's the reason I took up magic.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.” Leon shot another arrow, then frowned at him, a little unserious curve of his lips that was nearly a pout. “My brother is as intimidating as yours, I'll have you know. His bladework was fearsome. Better to compete with the others for Brynhildr.”

“Wait. Your grip's off.” He reached from next to Leon and tilted the bow slightly, putting one hand over Leon's so that he could feel how his fingers should support the bow. Leon's arm brushed under his, knuckles under his palm, well-trimmed nails under his fingertips.

Takumi stepped back to let Leon shoot. When he released the arrow, it struck the first ring around the center.

“Nice,” Leon said. He let himself grin a little, as if that were all his own doing, as he took another arrow from the quiver. 

“Anyway, between the two of you, I would've thought you were the perfect one,” Takumi said.

Leon laughed at that. “None of us were perfect. I simply put on the best act.”

“You didn't grow up convinced that your brother was perfect? Is it just my brother?”

“It's just your brother,” Leon said firmly. “Don't be fooled by his principled appearance. Marx was a horrid teenager. For instance, he'd embarrass me with childhood anecdotes just to get ahead.”

“Hence, the blowing incident.”

“Hence the blowing incident. Oh, he'd frame it as if he were just looking out for me. But you could tell.” Leon mimicked Marx's monotone baritone voice: “No, Leon, leave the last scone be. Remember when you gorged yourself on dessert and purged upon the carpet?”

“And then he ate the scone,” Takumi concluded.

“He ate that scone.” Leon released his arrow and sighed. “Firstborns have it good.”

* * *

After supper, Leon reluctantly left him to ensure that everything was in order for their departure on the next day. Takumi, not knowing what to do with himself, wandered about in the palace grounds as the sky was beginning to dim, thinking about how different it was to stroll through the gardens alone.

So when he spotted Ryouma sitting on the stones at the edge of the pond, Takumi impulsively decided to join him.

Ryouma startled as Takumi approached, folding a sheet of paper in his hands. “Good evening, brother,” Takumi said.

“Takumi,” Ryouma said in acknowledgment, his voice a little uneven. Takumi took a seat next to him and eyed the paper, half-covered by Ryouma's large hands, with curiosity. Before Takumi could ask, Ryouma glanced down at the note shielded in his hands and said, “I was reading Mother's letter.”

Suddenly Takumi remembered—their mother had left him a letter, too. She had told him to read it when he was worried about matters of the heart. He had promptly buried it in a book stacked under several other books because she knew better than anyone that he had never brought home a girl in his life, and he was convinced that she was making fun of him. Then just a few days later, she died, he and his brother headed straight for the front lines of war, and Takumi desperately tried to put her out of his mind. The letter, he managed to forget entirely.

It made him a little sad, learning that she had left a letter for each of them. He had a feeling, sometimes, that he had been her favorite out of the four of them, but she would never offer any proof. She was too good a mother for that.

But for now he sat next to Ryouma, who seemed willing to discuss his letter even as he kept it hidden in his palms. Takumi ventured, “What did she say?”

Ryouma kept his silence for a few moments. He gazed over the pond, its water dark and glassy in the dying light.

“That she was proud of me for moving on.”

Takumi opened his mouth to ask what he meant when it suddenly struck him. 

Crimson. When Kamui led them to her body, Ryouma had looked, turned away, and left her there saying only that they had to keep going. 

That was why he hadn't married Rinka for three years.

Takumi felt like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to see. There was nothing he could say, nothing that should have been said. 

Except for one thing. “I'm sorry for laughing.” 

He couldn't have known better at the time, but that didn't matter now. His brother was heartsick, and fallible after all.

* * *

Leon was leaving tomorrow. Oboro was going to start a business. Ryouma had been wed. And Leon would be married in the spring.

Takumi laid in his bed with the lamp left on, staring at his mother's envelope held above him. Was he worried about matters of the heart? He didn't really know. He supposed he should find someone to marry eventually, but it wasn't about that. It was about being left behind while everyone else kept plowing ahead.

Maybe it had some kind of clue. Maybe this letter would name his future bride or hint at how his life would turn out.

Once he had that thought in his head, he was dying to see what secrets the letter held.

An excuse in the form of Leon's earlier confession sprung into his mind. _I'm worried about never finding love,_ he told himself to alleviate his guilt. 

He lifted the little triangular flap and peered into the envelope, like he might disturb the letter's contents by looking at it too fast. The edges of a neatly folded letter peeked out from its length. With a delicate touch, he reached into the envelope with two fingers—index and middle finger, as the thumb seemed too crude—and pulled out the letter. 

He could see her writing peeking through from the other side of the paper, like veins across the page. The letter smelled of jasmine, like she always wore.

It was like going to his mother for comfort.

He laid the envelope next to him on the sheets and gently unfolded the letter.

 

_To Takumi:_

_What a wonderful man you will become. I wish I could be there to read this letter with you. I'm so happy you've begun to find your place in the world. I know you must worry when you see the remarkable people around you, but in others' eyes, you are remarkable too. I can feel the peoples' powerful adoration for you._

_Ever since you were a boy, you always had a deep sense of compassion. Do you remember when the boys from Tachibana wanted to play with you, and you said, “We have to include Sakura too”? It warmed my heart to see you looking out for your little sister._

_I hope that all of you will look out for each other in your own ways: you, Sakura, Hinoka, Ryouma, Aqua, and Kamui. I will always cherish every one of you. You are my precious family. I will love you no matter what._

_I knew from the time that you were very little that you would grow up to follow a different path. At times I was frightened for you. You were a sensitive boy and people can be unknowingly cruel. As a mother, I wanted to spare you that pain._

_Through the years, I dreamed of horrible fates that could have befallen you. When at last I awoke knowing that these were not the fates of the child I knew, my own Takumi, I wept with happiness. You will live. You will grow, and know love, and cherish life. And I will not be able to keep you from hardship, but that has never been what a mother is truly meant to do._

_Takumi, there will be pain you cannot avoid and facts you cannot change. Know that your family will love you always. I will always be behind you, no matter what course you take. I will watch over you from the other world. You are not alone. No matter who you come to love, I will always love you._

_Mom_

 

Takumi finished the letter with his handkerchief covering half of his face. He pulled the blanket over himself and stared at the letter, Mikoto's achingly warm words swimming in his vision. He wished she could have been here. The war was over but the world was still a crazy place and everything would've been so much easier if she had been there to welcome him home.

Despite what she said, he still felt alone, there in his silent room with only a letter in his hand. 

And his thumb was starting to crinkle the page. Takumi folded the letter and felt for where he had laid the envelope. He was about to tuck the letter safely back in when he realized something.

She had told him to read it when he was worried about “matters of the heart”. What in the world did that have to do with what she had left him?

He opened the letter back up. He rolled over on the bed and read it again, trying to understand in between words that still made him cry. The only part that seemed to talk about romance was that last line— _No matter who you come to love, I will always love you._

Was it supposed to be scandalous, then? A commoner? Mozume was cute enough, but he couldn't actually imagine...

He smelled a whiff of mint.

Mint and Leon, lingering on his pillow.

The thought of Leon's pale neck laying on his pillow sprung into his mind unbidden, and Takumi jolted up from the pillow like it'd stung him.

No way.

_I knew from the time that you were very little that you would grow up to follow a different path—_

No no no he had always been a little awkward. He had always been the odd one out. 

_No matter who you come to love—_ Right, she was trying to tell him _something_ about falling in love, but she was being very vague. It could have been anything. Someday he would know what she meant, and he'd look back on this night and laugh about how he thought his mother thought that he loved his best friend _like that_ —

_Takumi, there will be facts you cannot change—_

It was just his first real friendship of equals, that's all it was. He didn't have anything else to compare it to, so maybe it could seem a little strange at times— _What kind of person stares at the back of their best friend's neck!?_

Against all reason, he felt a twinge of resentment toward Mikoto for dredging up so much warmth in him only to bring everything crashing down. Before he did anything he knew he'd regret, he folded the letter and stuffed it back in its envelope, tossing it toward the top of the bureau. 

It missed and fell onto the floor. The gift his mother left him. The love she gave him before she died.

Everything was wrong about this moment.

This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be a man. He wanted to find the right girl and start a family. He wanted an honorable, dignified life that he could look back upon with pride. 

He didn't want to be the kind of person who lusted after men. That wasn't who he was.

Gods, there was too much going on lately. If only the world could stop.

Was it too late to start something with Oboro? He did love her, even if he wasn't _in_ love with her—so he thought, anyway. Maybe these things built up? Maybe he'd fall in love with her over time. After all, he hadn't seen anything other than a friend in Leon at first— _not_ that he was in love with Leon now, it was just that—it would make sense if—well, the ancients always arranged marriages, and those worked out somehow, so maybe he if went to salvage things with Oboro before it was far too late—

Takumi couldn't stand himself. Look at him, trying to cover his shame by using the girl who loved him to the brink of death.

He buried his face in the clean pillow and for a moment did not breathe.

Leon would be disgusted with him.

Above all, he didn't want Leon to be disgusted with him.

He wasn't some animal craving for a taste of Leon's trim figure, cool skin, pale neck. It wasn't like that. Leon meant a lot to him. Leon taught him how to use forks and thrashed him in chess and smiled at his jokes and kept him company when they had both been at their worst.

It seemed like a mere detail that he liked looking at Leon, watching how he moved, drinking in the scent he left behind.

The details made all the difference.

When he surfaced for air, he propped his chin on his pillow and stared at the wall, not knowing what to think.

He got up and picked the envelope up from the floor. He sat on the edge of his bed and took out the letter to read it again.

 _Everything will be all right_ , Mikoto said.

His mother was never wrong. But in that moment he found it difficult to believe.

* * *

The next morning, Takumi went to see Leon off. 

Leon took one look at him and said, “Rough night?”

He hadn't gotten any sleep last night and it must have shown on his face. “Yeah. There's been a lot going on. You know.”

Leon clapped him on the shoulder, his hand firm, his eyes kind. Leon was going to be the death of him. “Well, write me any time.”

“See you in the spring,” Takumi said. He managed to return the gesture, Leon's shoulder under his hand. He felt its warmth for just a moment before they parted. 

Then Leon and Elise climbed into their carriage, giving one last wave as it rolled down the path to the gates. 

There went Leon. Leaving him to himself. Maybe he didn't want Leon here to provoke his shame. Maybe he didn't want Leon to ever go. Takumi waved back, not knowing how he felt.


	11. Spring in Muse (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one paragraph in here that's a bit sexier than I'd think of as "T". But since 99% of the story is quite T-rated, and this is AO3 and I feel that you are all mature enough to look out for yourselves, I'm leaving the overall story rating at T. If explicit stuff bothers you, skip the first long paragraph of the second scene.

“Brother,” Sakura said from the doorway, “could you spare a moment?”

“Sure. I wasn't doing anything important.” Takumi set his brush down and shoved his draft to the side. As a letter to a minor landlord with orders to stop extorting tenants, it was actually rather important. But Takumi couldn't get the language right and Sakura needed something. It could wait. He took this chance to warm his fingers in his sleeves.

Sakura entered and slid the door shut discreetly behind her. Kneeling at the other side of the desk, the many layers of her winter clothes rustling as she sat, she took a deep breath, gazing at the desk for one moment before she looked him in the eye. 

“Brother, what do you do when you're worried about a friend, but they've sworn you to secrecy?”

“Um, it'd depend on why I was worried and what the secret is. Why?” Takumi guessed right away that Sakura was talking about Elise. Leon had been worrying over her for years now.

“I don't know if I can explain without saying too much,” Sakura murmured. “I suppose—I understand why she doesn't want others to know. But there are times when I won't be able to help her. I'm worried.”

“Is Yukimura still making you go on the Fire Clan trip instead of Leon's wedding?”

Sakura shook her head and looked to the side for a long moment. It seemed to Takumi like it had been several years since he'd seen her like this, fretting endlessly over the right thing to do. “Lord Yukimura was very kind. When I told him that attending the wedding was important to me, he said that Sister would do in my place.”

“Hey, that's great.”

“But I don't know if I should,” Sakura said. “Someday I'll have to put Hoshido first. I feel like if I always make sure to see her, and one day I can't, it could kill her.”

“Kill her?” In a low voice, Takumi said, “It's that bad?” Sakura nodded quietly. “I think you need to tell someone. ...Does Leon know?”

“No... well, not all of it.”

“King Marx?”

“I don't think she wants her brothers to know.” Sakura sighed, her shoulders falling forward just slightly. “I know I can't leave it be, but I don't want to break her trust.”

There had to be someone else. Someone who could watch over Elise, someone trustworthy and nonintimidating... What was the name of that retainer again? “Elfie?”

“I've thought about telling Elfie,” Sakura said.

“You should tell Elfie. It's her duty to watch over Elise.” Takumi reached across the table and patted his hard-working diligent little sister on the head. “You don't have to take all of it onto your own shoulders.”

Looking a little put out about being patted on the head, Sakura said, “Brother, I'm not a child anymore.”

“I know,” Takumi said with a smile. He was just so pleased that Sakura would come to him for advice.

* * *

Maybe he should tell Sakura.

He was fairly certain—as the day of their departure approached—that he should tell someone before facing Leon again. 

In the privacy of his own mind, he found himself entertaining the idea of stealing Leon away, deep into the hunting grounds, within the privacy of the trees and the miles and miles of land between them and anyone else, and peeling the robes from his ivory skin, warm to the touch against the coolness of the air, taut muscles across bone forming perfect contours to delineate all of his parts—shoulderbone to shoulder, chest to abdomen, abdomen to thigh, cock perking up from between them in response to his touch, heated and firm and slightly slick—and the sounds he'd make, murmuring Takumi's name in guttural desperation—

Then, lying sweaty and spent on his bed that had long lost Leon's scent, Takumi would slowly remember that he'd have to write a response to Leon's letter, sympathizing over the drama of wedding preparations (as it had been made official), explaining how to string a bow, mentioning the surplus harvest they were sending, talking to Leon like he always had. He'd remember, with an acute sense of shame, that Leon was his friend, and Takumi didn't want to upset him by coming onto him in the woods, or touching him all over when unexpected contact generally made him flinch, or touch his cock for fuck's sake, and the whole thing was just messed up. 

He used to pull himself out of these fantasies with horror. But the temptation came again and again, and at some point over the winter he had given in. 

It would probably only end up making things harder for himself. Just because Leon wasn't thrilled about a political marriage didn't mean Takumi suddenly had a chance.

But then, there were memories that nagged at him. Sitting in the library, arms pressed together—looking over and thinking for the first time that there was something special between them—Leon looking back with a glimmer in his eye like he'd felt the same way.

Then there was the evidence against. _The Amusians were deviants._ But maybe he was overthinking it. Takumi had said plenty of stuff like that before—back before he had realized that he might have been a deviant himself.

When Takumi finished the book, he wondered if it hadn't just been a cornerstone of Nohrian philosophy to Leon—if all of its talk of love between men had meant something to him. Was it some kind of sign, that Leon had presented him with this book first? 

Maybe—there was the slightest chance—that he could make Leon's heart sing.

It sounded like something out of bad court poetry, but it was exactly what he caught himself thinking. (And it was Leon's fault to begin with, for using a line like that.) That was what it felt like too, his heart singing, when Leon wished him a happy birthday without him ever having to mention it.

At times it all seemed so innocent that Takumi managed to convince himself that it wasn't that scandalous. And he wanted so much for someone else to know, someone other than his departed mother. Left to himself, he was going to explode into a disjointed mess of guilt and shame and ecstasy.

A week before their departure, the urge had carried him all the way to the fork in the hallway between his sisters' chambers.

He stopped there. He had planned to go to Sakura, who always understood him best. But how could he run to his _little_ sister for help? 

Hinoka had lived her whole life under the disgrace of abandoned womanhood. She might have more insight into his frustration. 

—But then, Hinoka always took a patronizing attitude with him. The topic alone made him uncomfortable enough.

Asama passed by and said, “Cheers, Prince Takumi. Have you managed to lose your way in your own home?”

So he snapped, “No. It's—it's none of your business why I'm here,” and left.

* * *

Before he knew it, he was in Muse, and the sight of Leon did not elicit the reaction that he feared it would.

Not that he wasn't thrilled to see him. But with Leon standing before him, giving his mind proof of exactly what he was like, his imagination was silenced. Instead, he took up an offer from one very real Leon to ditch their guards and sneak out somewhere for a little privacy.

They set their sights on a walk to the opera house and back, walking through the renovated streets while munching at skewers of meat.

“You know,” Takumi said with food in his mouth, “I heard from Orochi that it isn't safe to eat street food outside of Hoshido. Is it true?”

“At worst we'll have a fit of indigestion,” Leon said, also not seeming to care that he had food in his mouth. Somehow talking with his mouth full didn't tarnish his looks at all. It was surprisingly charming on him, like the stray locks of hair that fell over his hairband. “I can't bring myself to care—I always have indigestion. I'll take yours if you don't want it.”

“I'll chance it,” Takumi said. It was pretty tasty. “That said, if I were trying to assassinate us, I would definitely try hawking poisoned food at us.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “There are easier ways to assassinate someone. Anyway, if it were poisoned, I could tell.”

“I didn't know your natural genius extended to sniffing out poison.”

“I'm brilliant, it's true.” Leon gave a smirk that made Takumi momentarily question why he even liked him. But as his smirk fell away, his dark eyes were earnest and Takumi remembered why. “Actually, my mother's spymaster taught me when I was six.”

“Who teaches a six-year-old prince how to detect poison?” Takumi balked.

“Well—I can't say it wasn't warranted. Someone _did_ try to poison me immediately after that.”

Leon's idea of light conversation could be incredible sometimes. “You never told me you were poisoned,” Takumi said. He had finished his skewer of meat now, twirling the stick between his fingers, wondering what they did with waste in Amusia. 

“I wasn't! I didn't drink it. Ah, let me start from the beginning.” Leon paused for a moment to nibble the last piece of meat off of his skewer before popping it into a bin at the corner. Takumi had thought that those were for parcels, but he figured Leon knew what he was doing so he followed suit.

“So, things were tense after Queen Ekaterina's death. The spymaster sat me down one day, had me smell vials of poison and pick out the poisoned goblet from a row of them. I did perfectly, of course.”

“Of course you did,” Takumi said.

“No, it was fun. It was all a game to me at the time.” It might have still been a game to him now. He was grinning like he was talking about embarrassing Marx at parties. “Just a week later, I reached for the glass of water by my bedside, and I smelled it, and called for him— 'There's blue acid in my cup!' You know, I thought he was testing me, and I'd just passed.”

“Blue acid?” Takumi said.

“It's actually invisible,” Leon explained. “Fortunately, it has a bitter odor—somewhat like biting into the pit of a fruit. Anyway, the spymaster was horrified, and the whole place was in such an uproar that I regretted saying anything. It didn't sink in what had almost happened to me until one of my older brothers died of poison a month later.”

With nothing else to say to that, Takumi said, “I'm glad you're alive.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

They had reached the path leading through a verdant courtyard to the stately opera house. Part of the stonework was noticeably newer than the rest, but the curves and arches of golden-white stone were still majestic in the afternoon sun.

Leon breathed into his hands to warm them in the brisk air as he gazed at its facade. It was chilly for spring, and although Takumi always erred on the side of wearing too much, Leon wore only a single layer of robes. His nose and cheeks were pink and bright against his skin, white with cold.

“My father used to love this place,” Leon said. “He would come here every year. Even after—you know.”

“Do you want to take a look inside?” Takumi said.

Leon shook his head. “I heard a rumor that I have a date here with Eirene tonight. I can wait. ...It's strange to see it in sunlight.” He crossed his arms to tuck his hands under his arms.

“Hey, Leon.” Takumi took a little bundle of cloth from the satchel at his side. He had stuffed the present in his satchel as they were disembarking from the boat for lack of other places to put it, but he liked to think that his mother's gift for foresight had rubbed off on him. “I'd meant to give this to you as a wedding present—from me, not Hoshido—but I think you could use these now.”

Leon accepted the package curiously, untying it to find a pair of white wool gloves. “Oh, perfect. Thank you.” He tucked the wrapping cloth into his own satchel, next to the tome of Brynhildr which he always brought on outings, and slid the gloves onto his hands before breathing on them again. “They're very nice.”

“Oboro said that they're made out of special wool from the Fire Clan.” He had found them in her shop when he visited to pick up his outfit for the wedding. She'd insisted upon giving them to him for free, even though they were for a Nohrian she must have despised. “They're thin but warm. I thought you might like them, since your hands are always cold.”

“I do,” Leon said, pausing a bit with his gloved hands to his face. He looked into Takumi's eyes as he lowered them from his mouth and said, “Do you mind that my hands are cold when I touch you?”

He heard something about Leon touching him and his mind blanked. “What?”

“Someone once compared shaking hands with me to retrieving meat from an icebox,” he sighed. “I know it's part of why I make tend to make a poor first impression—”

“No,” Takumi said, his mind all caught up, “I don't mind. I just thought it would be a useful gift.”

“Well, thank you.” Leon crossed his arms again—evidently his hands had yet to warm. “I hope Eirene doesn't mind either.”

“You haven't held her hand before?” Takumi said.

“I haven't even met her,” Leon said, looking down to the side. “The duke says he's saving her for the main event.”

Trying to lighten the mood, he said, “Maybe it'll be love at first sight,” even though he privately hoped it would be anything but that.

“I hear she's unpleasant, especially to men,” Leon said.

“Maybe it won't be.” Takumi patted Leon on the shoulder. His heart hummed, just a little, when Leon didn't flinch. “Hey, it's going to be all right.”

“I hope so.”

* * *

“We could dance while we're waiting,” Hinata said, wiggling a little where he stood. 

The bride and groom had yet to show up, and Takumi was already sick of the music. “No thanks,” he said. His bottom was sore from sitting on the bench, but he could already tell that the day would be hard on his feet. Besides, he was in no hurry to sweat all over the white-and-blue work of art he was wearing before the wedding had even started.

A hint of disappointment passed across Hinata's face as he tapped his foot by himself, humming along tunelessly. 

Sakura—despite knowing that Musians had a very relaxed sense of being on time—had insisted on Hoshidan punctuality. Their sunrise arrival left them all lingering awkwardly in the courtyard while Duke Ploutos, laughing at how early they came, excused himself to oversee other preparations.

Which left Takumi here, doing nothing, bearing the brunt of Hinata's energy in Oboro's absence.

Abruptly, Hinata stopped humming and took a seat next to Takumi. Takumi raised his head from where he had been resting it against his hand and looked at Hinata in question.

“By the way, milord.” Hinata crossed his legs at the ankles and weaved his fingers together, pressing his thumbs in thought. “I don't mean to reprimand you but—you know, you terrify me when you just, vanish?”

“What, Hinata?” Takumi said with a cocky smile to hide the stab of guilt in his gut. “You were actually scared for me?”

“Yeah,” Hinata said, not smiling back. “I mean, you could've fallen off the boat or gotten kidnapped. I had no way of knowing.”

Takumi thought that putting it that way made him sound a little pathetic, but considering that he'd been captured twice now—once when he had slipped away from his retainers in Izumo—he knew didn't have room to protest.

“If you need time to yourself,” Hinata continued, “you can ask, milord.”

Takumi raised his eyebrows. “Would you let me go off by myself?”

Hinata visibly squirmed at the idea, uncrossing and recrossing his legs the other way, before saying, “It's better than being left behind with nothing. So... I would, milord. So long as you don't head straight for danger.”

There wasn't anything about this conversation that wasn't awkward. It was like being chastised by a chaperone. “All right,” Takumi said, still playing it cool.

After a moment of awkward silence, Hinata leapt from the bench and looked at Takumi as if resolved to forget everything and turn the mood around. “The morning's still young, milord—”

Takumi said, “I'm still not dancing with you,” although Hinata's stubbornness couldn't help but make him smile.

* * *

Takumi eventually gave Hinata one dance later in the morning, when other guests had arrived and everyone had begun to dance. Hinata did some sort of stomping parody of a harvest dance (in spring) as he moved to the beat not caring what anyone might think of him.

Their earlier conversation had made him think—Was that the first time Hinata had worked himself up enough to criticize him? Takumi had never known Hinata to reprimand anyone, much less his lord. They'd known each other for what seemed like their entire lives, and yet there was still room for surprises. 

How long had they known each other? Ten years, now? Ten years ago, in search of a retainer, Takumi had visited several schools of the sword. In the training halls at Noma, he had spotted a boy about his age who moved with such indomitable spirit: sharp, decisive swings of the sword, committing his whole body into the motion when he stepped forward to push his opponent back. There was something about him. That was why Takumi had chosen the boy, Hinata, as his first retainer. Because some strange sense of awe had bubbled within him and Takumi had taken it to be a premonition of Hinata's greatness.

Takumi wondered now if he had instead selected his first boyhood crush.

Strangely enough, the idea didn't bother him. Dancing across from Hinata now, he saw nothing but his lifelong retainer Hinata, energetic and annoying and incredibly loyal. Hinata did have an impressive set of arms—he had developed muscle in manhood in a way that Takumi always envied—but for some reason it didn't inspire the slightest hint of lust.

The music abruptly cut out, and Hinata slowed to a stop, flashing him a crooked smile and a wink like he always did when he thought he was being cool. Hinata was so hopeless. Takumi had no idea what his ten-year-old self had been thinking.

“Is that the bride?” someone said. They looked toward the stairs, where a procession of women were descending into the courtyard. In the middle of their throng was a dark-haired woman in a vivid red and purple gown. 

Sakura started to approach them, looking back pointedly for Takumi to join her. He gave Hinata one last grin, then followed.

“Thank you for attending,” the bride said with an obliging smile. “Princess Sakura. Prince Takumi. I am Eirene, eldest daughter of the Duke of Muse.”

“Takumi, second prince of Hoshido.”

“I am Sakura, second princess of Hoshido. Thank you for having us at your wedding.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Eirene said.

They talked about the trip over, and the state of the seas, and other such small talk that never really interested him. Sakura had gotten much better at it, and she and Eirene kept up a decent conversation about the differences in fashion between their nations as Takumi vaguely stood to the side and nodded.

It was a little strange to think that he had laid eyes on the bride before Leon had the chance. Despite the beauty of her dress and the arrangement of her hair, her features were otherwise quite plain, with legs a little short for her height and a squarish jaw that might have flattered one of her brothers. 

Takumi didn't even want Leon to be attracted to his wife. He still found himself feeling a little sorry for his friend.

He snapped back to attention as the women fell to a hush, the Musian ladies staring past his shoulder. Takumi turned around to find that Leon had arrived, the curve of his golden head catching the light as he stepped out from the carriage into the sun.

“Oh, he's gorgeous,” one of the ladies behind him whispered. Takumi tuned them out as they all parted in one great motion to clear the way between Leon and Eirene.

Leon stepped forth in an elaborate blue knee-length coat, ornamented heavily in front with gold embroidery. Takumi didn't know what it was—somehow, Leon looked more radiant than usual, like he should have been captured in a statue mid-stride, with his arms crossed behind his proud back and his face confidently calm, with the faintest hint of a devilish smile.

He strode across the courtyard to where Eirene waited with her hands clasped before her, smile fixed on her face.

“I'm overjoyed to meet you, Lady Eirene,” he said, bowing just enough to convey his grace. “Now that I've seen you at last, you surpass all imagination.”

“Likewise,” Eirene said a bit coolly. Leon seemed unfazed, offering one hand to gently draw her to the center of the courtyard. The music had started again, something slower. Leon was fluid—taller than his height—drifting rather than walking—elbow bent at the perfect angle as he led his bride along. His eyes stayed steady upon her face, as if he had no thoughts in the world beyond her in that moment.

Takumi watched as they danced, the Nohrian prince in blue and the Musian bride in red, and felt as if he were looking upon not one but two strangers.


	12. Spring in Muse (Part 2)

When Sakura approached him out of the blue, Takumi's first thought was that he had been staring too conspicuously at Leon and his bride.

Instead, she said, “Brother, would you do me a favor?”

“Uh, sure. What is it?”

“Would you spare a dance for Elise? It's her birthday.”

As if his dances were accounted for. He had spent the afternoon milling about the perimeter of the courtyard, trying not to let it get to him that Leon had transformed into a completely different person the moment he stood in Eirene's presence.

“Sure, I guess,” Takumi said. Anything for a distraction.

Sakura pointed out where Elise sat on a bench, quietly sipping at a drink. Harold and Elfie were missing from her sides, as if everything had been perfectly planned for her crush to approach and sweep her off of her feet.

Takumi didn't know how he felt about going along with this conspiracy. He hoped they weren't trying to actually match them together.

He sat down on the bench next to Elise, saying, “Hey. Happy birthday.”

“Hi, Takumi. Thanks,” she said.

That was a lot colder than he was expecting.

“How old are you now?” he tried again.

“Fifteen,” she said, looking at him as if suspicious about the fact that he was making small talk.

How could talking to Elise be so awkward? She was younger than him, and as he'd recently discovered, he didn't even like girls. Takumi gave up and got to the point. “So, I heard you wanted to dance with me.”

Elise blinked at him, said, “Oh,” then took another sip of her drink. “Sakura didn't believe me about being over you.”

Ouch. How had he been forgotten in a handful of months?

“It's okay though,” Elise said as if Takumi were the one sitting alone on the fringes of the court, “I'll dance with you.”

“Forget it. We don't have to.”

“Let's dance,” Elise said, setting her glass aside and rising to her feet, sticking both hands out for him to take. Takumi sighed and took them, feeling as if he were playing with her just like when they had traveled together in one army. 

Except that Elise wasn't a child anymore. At fifteen, her womanly gown bared her shoulders, her face had lost some of its roundness, and her curves were beginning to fill out. Could she have changed so much since last fall? It was possible that he hadn't been paying attention the last time she had visited Hoshido. On second thought, Takumi realized that that was exactly it. He hadn't really interacted with Elise since that time they escaped from Chevalier. Even that memory felt stale, like a mere recording of events that he had gleaned from a book.

He was comparing Elise to the version of herself that he had known in the days of the war. No wonder she looked different now.

As the music carried on cheerily, Takumi said, “So, how have things been?” It sounded horribly awkward.

“Mm. Busy,” Elise said noncommittally. She let go of one of his hands to do the little trotting dance that all of the guests were doing, and Takumi followed suit. Her hands were a little damp, but warm and extremely soft—unmistakably a girl's hands. “I miss Cheri. At least we're going home soon.”

“Cheri?”

“My dog,” Elise said. “He always misses me too. I hope Jakob doesn't yell at him too much.”

Takumi never really understood the practice of keeping animals for pleasure, so he shut his mouth and concentrated on the dance. After a few minutes—crush or no crush—it had brought a smile to Elise's face as the steps became familiar to them and they circled about with steps buoyed by the beat. 

At last, the song whirled to a close. Elise, sweating and catching her breath, went back to the bench for her drink. Takumi followed suit, sitting by her for a moment to spare his feet in what was looking like a very long day of dancing.

The refreshment table wasn't far from where they were, and he caught sight of figures in blue and red—Leon and Eirene—lingering there by the glasses of fruit juice. By all appearances, Leon seemed completely absorbed by her, eyes fixed on her, head angling in response to the things she seemed to be saying in between sips, laughing and smiling at every other word.

He had never seen Leon smile so much. It was heartbreakingly genuine, a smile that warmed his cheeks and made his eyes soften. She seemed to inspire him to levels of delight that Takumi had never seen in him before. Why didn't he have that effect?

“I guess my brother's going to have his own family now,” Elise said from beside him. He glanced over as she took another sip, her eyes also fixed on her brother by the refreshment table. “Takumi, do you think you'll see Sakura much after you're married?”

Takumi didn't know if he would ever be married, but he knew why Elise was asking. “Yeah, Sakura and I get along pretty well. I'd always make time for her.”

Elise gazed into the red drink in her glass. “Sakura is good at getting people to like her.” 

“What's this? Last I heard, you're Nohr's favorite princess,” Takumi said, tilting his head.

“I'm Nohr's only princess.”

His heart dropped. He caught a glimpse of Sakura and Elfie in the corner of his eye and remembered. Poisonings, exile, otherworldly vows, self-banishment—in the end, Elise was the only princess left in Castle Krakenstein.

Takumi wished he could make her feel less alone. Could he? It wasn't his attention she wanted. If anything, Takumi had only taken Leon's attention away from her.

“Do you want another dance?” he tried anyway.

“Okay,” she said.

* * *

After an afternoon of feasting and rituals and more dancing and more feasting and more music for more dancing, which stretched into the well-lit evening, the guests finally started to leave. Takumi had resigned himself to going back to the manor where they were staying without having said a word to Leon all day. But just as Hinata went off to check when the carriage would arrive, someone came up to him and said, “I'm surprised you're still standing.”

Leon had appeared next to him, leaning his back against the wall, eyes half-lidded and lips curved into the faintest sign that he was happy to see him. So Takumi wasn't just old news.

“I gave up on dancing by lunchtime,” Takumi said. “Finally tired of your shining bride?”

“Ugh. I was tired of her within an hour.” Was he serious? Who could be that good of an actor? Leon certainly seemed serious as folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the tiled floor. “I thought I'd give it a chance and try to win her over, but she's just like they say. She's determined not to like me.”

Vindictive pleasure flitted through Takumi at that. Just as quickly, he felt a little guilty for it. Leon, despite apparently not being into Eirene at all, seemed to take it so personally that this one ugly woman didn't fawn over him.

But of course Takumi couldn't keep Leon to himself for long. He spotted Eirene coming from the house into the courtyard and said, “Well, she's coming back for you.”

Leon uncrossed his arms and stood at attention, looking completely enraptured again. “Do you have need of me, Eirene?”

“As our last night in Amusia, my father thought that your family and mine might enjoy a night experiencing what our culture has to offer at the opera house,” she said.

“Of course,” Leon said. 

He took a step toward her and shot a lingering glance back at Takumi. Eirene followed his gaze and said, “Prince Takumi, if you would care to join, there would be enough room for you and Princess Sakura as well.”

Takumi didn't really care for Musian music, but he had a feeling that Leon didn't want to be left alone to his fate. “Sure,” he said. “Give me one moment to call the others.”

* * *

As the couple to be honored, Leon and Eirene had a box to themselves. There was apparently some contention over Eirene being left alone with a man, as they were not technically married yet. (Leon had explained in a letter that the Musians had elaborate wedding traditions where the bride would be carried off from her father's house to her groom's house to be wed, so it worked perfectly to hold the marriage proper in Castle Krakenstein.) Ultimately Duke Ploutos resigned himself to the ways of the new generation and left his daughter in the capable hands of her retainer. The duke went to share a box with his other children, while Takumi squeezed in with Sakura and Elise, wondering why he came if they were going to be separated from Leon anyway.

“I've never been to a Musian opera before,” Sakura said, seeming genuinely excited. At least he had given his sister the opportunity to enjoy herself—Sakura always did like these things. “Do they make use of the water?”

“Yeah,” said Elise. “Whenever a character dies, Death rows them out of the theater.”

“Oh, that's so neat!” Sakura breathed.

The water mostly reminded Takumi that he had forgotten to take a trip to the lavatory before settling down in his seat—but at that moment the lights dimmed, the sound of violins floated into the air, and he was stuck there until intermission.

The stage remained empty as the music continued for some time, moving between soft and contemplative passages and energetic swells, before finally a man in a minstrel costume walked onstage. He opened his mouth and sang tremendously, a strange swollen sound that filled the whole theater. It took Takumi half the song before he caught the phrase “rule the world” and realized that the lyrics were actually in modern language. 

He glanced to Sakura, who seemed legitimately entranced by the whole thing, and made an effort not to squirm for her sake. 

The minstrel stepped aside, replaced by a man and a woman in royal clothes. From what Takumi could gather, the story proceeded to tell of a prince fleeing his palace. He had been betrayed by an allied nation, and his sister stayed behind to protect him. They were barely two songs in when the prince's adviser forced him to leave someone else behind to cover his escape—and it turned out that Elise was right about Death rowing characters offstage.

Takumi had a hard time caring for this prince who had mostly done a lot of running and letting others die. All of the stories from west of the Chasm seemed so obsessed with leaving a massive pile of bodies in their wake. And the sloshing of the canoe's paddles made his bladder difficult to ignore.

He stood up as quietly as he could, whispering to Sakura that he had to use the latrine. 

With Hinata following to guard him, Takumi found his way to the washroom of the opera house, finished his business, and was heading back when he ran into Leon and Eirene in the hallway.

Their retainers weren't with them—they were obviously sneaking out. His first thought was that they were having a lover's tryst, but considering that they were on frigid terms, the notion was absurd. “Are you two going somewhere?”

“Eirene has a play she'd like to see,” Leon said.

“I thought we came to see the opera,” Takumi said, minding Eirene's presence when what he really wanted to say is _Then why did you drag me to this thing?_

“The opera was my father's idea,” Eirene said bluntly. “He has kept me to the house since my engagement. I've never had a chance to see the play I've sponsored.”

“So we're sneaking out to make the most of her last night in Amusia,” Leon finished.

“Just the two of you? Don't you need a guard? It's past nightfall.”

“Our retainers are filling in our seats,” Leon said. “There's nothing to fear. I have Brynhildr with me.”

Takumi exchanged glances with Hinata, who seemed to agree that walking into a fight alone was always a horrible idea. “And if you're ambushed by more men than you can handle?”

“You underestimate me.”

Eirene cut in, “I don't mind if you come, Prince Takumi, as long as you do so discreetly.”

With that, he'd made up his mind. “Hinata, will you cover for me?” Takumi said.

Hinata looked at him pleadingly, like he wouldn't have to keep the promise he had made that morning if Takumi would just volunteer to let Hinata come with them.

“You need to go back and explain everything to Sakura so they don't raise alarms over me. Give me your sword.”

With an expression that was almost a pout, Hinata unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to Takumi. “I know how well you can use it,” Hinata sighed, “but please be careful. I'll never forgive myself if you get hurt, okay?”

“Thanks. I promise.” Takumi worked on the sword belt as he fell in next to Leon. Eirene looked at them insistently as she continued down the hall. 

They walked right past the guards—the opera house had no reason to stop them. Once they were outside in the brisk and silent night, Eirene turned to Leon and said, “Thank you for agreeing to this.”

“Of course,” Leon said. “I would not deny you your last night in your birthplace.” He did not mention what the opera house meant to him.

Eirene looked down, her dark eyelashes shielding her eyes as she said, “There are many who would.”

“I'm not just anyone.” Leon smiled at Eirene, who sighed in response.

* * *

It was a long walk to the theater where the play was showing. Hands doubtlessly freezing, Leon casually put on the gloves that Takumi had given him, right in front of his wife-to-be. That, Takumi discovered, was a wonderful feeling.

The open-air theater wasn't in the worst neighborhood Takumi had seen, but was a far cry from the extravagance of the opera house. Four rows of wooden steps sank into the ground, and at its bottom was a simple wooden platform that served as a stage. Fortunately, the play was well underway when they shuffled into the back with their fine wedding clothes.

“Grandmother, may I ask you a question?” said the actress on the stage. Takumi was relieved that he could understand the words.

The presentation of the play was easier for him to digest than the opera—in fact, it was so unornamented that it struck him as downright common—but he found himself not caring for the story of this one, either. He gathered that it was about a princess trying to save the world from darkness, and she was consulting a seer in the mountains for help.

There was something very strange about listening to imagined stories about saving the world. Stories were always so carefully put together, with every act filled with meaning and purpose. There had been many times, during the war, when Takumi had thought to himself that he was an expendable piece in some series of events which would never make sense to him, and his only role was to shoot the Fuujin-yumi on Kamui's behalf and to feel the agony of watching his parents die again.

Wondering if he was thinking the same thing, Takumi glanced at Leon, who seemed to be watching the play with interest. Was he actually interested? He had no idea what to believe about Leon anymore.

And it wasn't much of a play. It was oddly focused on this princess, who seemed to be only enlisting allies for her cause while her brother took the army to their enemy's doorstep. He expected that she would eventually join him to bring the plot to the real action, but instead, shortly before the intermission, the prince came in to aid her after the palace she had taken came under siege.

There were no magic lights here to cue the intermission. With the stage empty, gradually, the audience began to talk amongst themselves.

Laying a hand on Leon's arm, Eirene said, “Prince Leon, I would like to speak with the playwright backstage.”

“You may do as you please,” Leon said. “I will be watching over you from here.” Eirene hesitated for just one moment before smiling and dashing down the steps.

Left alone, Takumi and Leon shared a moment of silence, not knowing what to say. Between the opera and this play, Takumi was starting to think that he just didn't get Nohrian theater.

“She's going to run the country behind my back,” Leon finally said, keeping his voice low so that the other patrons wouldn't overhear. “I can already tell.” Takumi couldn't help but laugh.

“It's good to know that western plays aren't all like this.”

“Gods, no. This is... very modern,” Leon said, making some kind of gesture with one hand. “Very political. It's not meant to be enjoyed.”

“Philosophy isn't meant to be _enjoyed_ ,” Takumi said, “but it manages to be interesting.”

Leon let a soft chuckle, grinning wryly to Takumi as he said, “Agreed.” He rested his head on his hand, his elbow against his leg, slouching in an unprincely manner. “This isn't the best of modern playwriting. Especially if you don't know legend this is based upon—it loses much of its meaning. I would never pick this as an introduction to western theater.”

“To be honest, I didn't like the opera, either.”

“I know a few plays you might like,” Leon said, giving him one of his soft smiles. “Maybe we can fit one in while you're in Vindam.” 

The way the skin wrinkled just slightly under his eyes made him look so tired. Like being alone together was Leon's intermission in one long, tiresome day of being the perfect groom.

“Yeah...”

Takumi wanted to make the whole thing stop. He didn't know if his motives were selfish or selfless. He didn't want Leon to be taken from him. He didn't want Leon to live like this forever.

“Leon,” Takumi said, “are you sure about this?”

“About what?” he said, smile fading.

“About... you know... the marriage.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at Takumi. “Why are you asking me that now?”

Put on the spot, Takumi said truthfully, “Because you seem miserable.”

“The question stands. Why are you asking me that now, with the wedding well under way? Do you think I have a choice?”

The next thing Takumi would have said played through his mind: _You haven't technically been married yet._

_Would you have me embarrass myself and insult Muse by breaking off now?_ he knew Leon would say.

_You're always suffering for Nohr and one day it's going to break you._

_You speak as if I have a choice._

Takumi wondered, sometimes, if there were choices that Leon didn't knew he had, choices that would've made him happier with none of the consequences that he'd feared for Nohr. But by now it really was too late. He couldn't pretend to himself that it would be sane to abandon Muse at the altar.

Takumi said, “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Leon crossed his arms and stared silently at the stage. Takumi wanted to reach out to him, but knew Leon wouldn't stand for it in public.

“What I can't figure out,” Leon finally said, “is why you did.”

—Had he been too obvious? Could Leon sense Takumi's displeasure at his marriage? Was he putting it all together in his sharp mind, right now, with every little excessive touch from last fall, all pointing at the conclusion that Takumi's feelings for him were impure?

“Because sometimes I say things without thinking and it comes off the wrong way,” Takumi said. It was completely true. He hoped it was enough of an explanation for Leon.

Leon was silent for a few more moments before he said, “Sorry. It's not your fault.” He let out a breath. “I'm just trying to make the most of this. I don't want to think about what could have been.”

It was such a sad thing to hear. “All right,” Takumi said. It may very well have been for the best.

Leon looked like he had something else to say, if only he could find the words. But the people around them had begun finding their way back to their seats. Intermission was over. Eirene emerged from backstage and made her way up to them, taking her seat on the other side of Leon.

“How was your budding playwright?” Leon said conversationally.

“Good,” Eirene said.

And the actors were back.

* * *

When the play ended, Eirene immediately urged them out of the theater and back toward the opera house. “We should have time to be back well before the opera ends,” Eirene said, despite walking at a quick unladylike clip.

“Do you do this often?” Leon said teasingly.

“No,” she said. “This is only the second time. My guardians typically aren't inclined to agree.”

“I, at least, have no intention of caging you in Castle Krakenstein,” he said.

Eirene shot him a glance, her face neutral as she continued to walk briskly ahead. “Prince Leon, what did you think of the play?”

Takumi watched Leon's face to see what he'd come up with, knowing very well how Leon felt about the play. Keeping a pleasant expression, Leon said, “It was unusual. I respect its originality, although I still prefer Renack's telling of the tale.”

Eirene sighed a little and said, “Perhaps Kora doesn't yet have Renack's skill with the craft. But she has a—rare sensibility.”

“Sensibility?” Leon echoed.

“Yes,” she said, looking at Leon carefully. “She writes stories in which there are no bit parts. In which wives and sisters live with all the richness given to heroes. Because they have been heroes, only that their stories went untold.”

“I see,” Leon said, appearing thoughtful. “Do you find the stories of heroines to be different from those of heroes?”

There was something in the intensity of her gaze, like she knew that he was waiting for her to give all the answers, and they were the only two beings in existence. “Do you, Prince Leon?” 

Leon returned her gaze, neutral, calculating. Takumi walked alongside them, silent, completely forgotten.

“I find that they are not,” he said at last, “and they join many other tales of heroes, shadowed by the greatest works.”

Eirene let out a half-laugh, smiling wryly to herself, and Takumi thought to himself how odd it was that he had followed the whole conversation, yet had no idea what was going on between them. “Prince Leon, I think I would not be opposed to spending evenings with you, should you drop the flattery.”

Leon chuckled at that. “You wound me. I only speak the truth.”

“There it is again,” she sighed. “Well—since we're returning to it, what do you think of Novus's _Sword of Light_? You said you've seen it before?”

Leon and Eirene spent the rest of the trip back to the opera house talking about theater. The two of them, tall and pale, conversed of western plays and books that Takumi did not know. He kept an his eyes on the alleys, the shadows, anywhere where danger might lurk, anywhere but the space between the couple next to him where he did not belong. 

His motives had been selfish. He wanted Leon to stay his, forever.


	13. Spring in Nohr (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moderate cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/254979.html) (beware spoilers).

There were people lining the streets as they rode out, chanting, “Freedom has no price!”

Their guard had to drag them out of the way of the wedding caravan as they left Amusia.

* * *

They stopped for the night in a little village that stood just where trees began to dot the arid landscape, thickening into a forest to the east. Standing outside the inn to stretch his legs after a long ride, Takumi thought that it was uncannily like the lay of the land where they had fled Chevalier.

Takumi and Sakura were the only high-ranking guests making the trip from Amusia to Vindam to attend both halves of the wedding, so all of the aristocratic members of their congregation fit into a single inn. Leon had mentioned before that travel in Nohr could be dangerous, but until now Takumi had expected that some nobles would take the chance to suck up to the new royal couple anyway.

Watching people quietly mill back to their homes in the fading light, here in this village as tranquil as the ones in Hoshido, it was hard to believe that he was in the same empire where he'd seen such chaos.

Just that morning, they had left Amusia amidst a rioting crowd. Hinata and Kazahana had stood on either side of the carriage to protect the doors with their bodies in case it came to that. And now, they were here in this peaceful place where Hinata felt safe letting him loiter around the inn, with only a few soldiers keeping watch over the perimeter.

“Ah, Prince Takumi.”

And breaking that tranquility was Zero, surely up to no good.

“Zero,” Takumi said, trying to be civil. “Did something come up?”

Zero shrugged and sauntered on over, standing next to him—not too close, for once—and saying, “I just thought we'd have a little chat.”

“All right,” he said. He wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Zero wasn't leaning on him and breathing on his ear. Not that he wanted him to—but it was a little suspicious. “So—are we in the Duchy of Chevalier right now?”

“We're ten miles within the border,” Zero said, “so yes. Chevalier proper is not a good place to be.”

“I know.”

Zero looked at him with his single eye, as if he knew more than Takumi did about what was going on in Chevalier. Takumi couldn't help but bite. “Well—how much worse has it gotten?”

“Worse,” Zero said. “Burning hole in the ground. Two rebel factions emerging out of the one we crushed. Citizenry upset we've established martial law. Ready to kill Lord Leon for establishing it, though the order had come from the king.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Well, that much is typical.”

“Sorry I asked.”

Zero let out a scoffing laugh. “Would you rather avert your eyes, Prince?”

“No, I meant—” Honestly, did he even mean anything by the comment? It just seemed like something that was said to acknowledge that things were bad. He hadn't imagined that he could accidentally offend Zero, who was the very opposite of Takumi's idea of a sensitive person. “Forget it.”

Zero looked at him for a moment longer before he seemed content to let the subject drop. Gazing toward the houses on the other side of the street, he said out of the blue, “Lord Leon enjoyed himself in Muse last fall.”

“Yeah?” Takumi said politely, although he had no idea what Zero was driving at.

“Tomatoes were in season. Muse grows about ten different kinds. Every day he'd send me to buy his afternoon snack. You know how he'd eat them?” Zero held his middle finger and thumb out into the air, as if he were holding an apple. “He'd nip one section and suck out the juice. Then he'd slowly eat his way around, liquid running down his fingers and dripping from his wrist. And then he'd pop the rest into his mouth and lap his fingers clean like a cat.”

Zero licked one finger, and the mental image of Leon doing the same rose unbidden to the front of his mind. Takumi huffed and looked away, trying to slant his hips away from Zero to conceal his involuntary response. “Does Leon know you watch him eat tomatoes like a voyeur?”

“Does Lord Leon know you find him so _stimulating_?”

All of a sudden the world seemed brightly colored and his lungs were tight. When he regained control of his breath, Takumi said, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I think you know.”

Why did it have to be Zero? Why did Zero have to be the first to know?—Takumi stopped himself from dwelling on his misfortune. He had to extract himself from this deadly situation. 

“No, I don't,” he said. “I think you have an obscene mind and you should leave the rest of us out of it.”

“Did you know,” Zero said in a voice that made dread run through Takumi's body and down into every last fingertip, “that you swallow when you look at him?”

Takumi _hadn't_ noticed that. Had Leon also caught on, then? It seemed at times that he'd never had a thought that Leon couldn't read.

—If Leon already knew, did that mean he had silently approved?

Takumi realized that he was taking too long to respond. He had just opened his mouth to (somehow) deflect Zero again when Hinata popped out of the inn, saying, “They have your room ready, milord!”

“Thanks,” Takumi said. At least the surge of fear had banished all signs of his arousal. “It was starting to get cold out here.”

As he stepped away, Zero called out from behind him, “Tell him. He's open-minded.”

The thought rattled him as the door swung shut.

* * *

It rained unexpectedly hard while they were on the road, turning the roads to mud and forcing a considerable delay in their return to Vindam. During the first major downpour they took shelter in a village just before entering the swampy eastern part of the Canopy Forest, scurrying through the forest as soon as the skies looked to stay clear for a couple of days. The second downpour caught them in the middle of the uninhabited wastelands of the north, and their guards, servants, and retainers scurried back and forth to improvise a camp when they found themselves stuck in the middle of nowhere.

Wet and tired and bored under the tarp they had put up to shield them from the rain, Takumi spotted Leon by himself underneath the other end of the canvas. Leon faced away from him, toward the blue-grey landscape that faded into the misty air. He looked so elegant—under the soft cool light filtered through the cloudy sky—and yet somehow lonesome.

(By now he wasn't sure he minded being in love with Leon. Leon was such a talented and kind and beautiful and passionate person. Being in love with him seemed like such a natural thing.)

But then a tall woman with hair the shade of lilac flowers—Eirene's retainer—approached Leon and conversed with him, their words inaudible at a distance through the rain.

No matter how alone they felt, out here they shared their space with dozens of strangers. So for the time being, Takumi left Leon to his bride.

* * *

They arrived at Castle Krakenstein on the eve of the wedding. The sun was already setting by the time they came to the palace, and a small party had gathered to welcome them back.

“I feared we'd be forced to reschedule,” King Marx said to Leon. “You always did have a way of arriving late.”

“Never when it mattered, my brother,” Leon said with a playful frown. “I offer apologies on behalf of the weather.” Seeing that Marx and Eirene looked at each other with tactful curiosity, Leon laid one hand on Eirene's shoulder and gestured to Marx. “Eirene, this is my punctual older brother, Marx, King of Nohr. Marx, my charming bride, Eirene of Muse.”

Takumi couldn't help but notice, as Marx and Eirene made their greetings to each other, that Marx was starting to gray around the temples. The crease between his eyebrows had been joined by one on either side of his mouth, permanent echoes of his constant frown.

As far as Takumi knew, Marx wasn't even thirty yet—Ryouma was only two years his junior and he had a full head of dark hair. Maybe it was a Nohrian thing.

“Take this time to prepare yourselves before the banquet,” Marx said as he turned to lead them into the castle. As he opened the doors, he said, “Felicia, see to the baths—”

With a loud howl, a wardog came charging at them.

Without hesitation, Hinata grabbed Takumi by the arm and pulled him back as he put his body in front, sword halfway drawn—

“Sit!” Marx barked. Why in the world did he think sitting would help in this situation—

“Cheri, _sit_ ,” Leon said sternly, and the wardog all but skidded to a halt, plopping its wrinkled bottom on the stone floor. Marx looked at the dog and frowned, as Leon lectured, “You can't just shout in its direction. You have to look it in the eye and establish authority.”

Marx harrumphed and said, “The dog needs to be trained out of charging guests.”

Leon gestured to the sitting dog, as if to say that it obviously had been.

“Cheeks!” Elise squealed, shoving past all of them to hug the dog around the throat. Both of them ended up on the floor where Elise smushed the dog's ugly wrinkled dark face between her hands. “I missed you so much, sweetie! Aww, you're such a good boy! What a good boy! Did you miss me?”

The dog made high-pitched sounds as it kicked at the air with one hind foot. Takumi put a hand on Hinata's arm to have him stand down—the dog was evidently harmless, if a bit disgusting.

Clearing his throat, Leon said, “Elise, do you think you could take the dog to your room? We're going to have to fit the luggage through this corridor.”

“Okay,” Elise said, picking herself onto her feet and gesturing to the dog with a quick, “C'mon, Cheri.”

“Remember to keep it to your room for the wedding,” Marx said. “We can't have it charging at guests.”

“I know,” Elise said, rolling her eyes at him. “I'll keep him in my room. I wasn't going to bring Cheri to the _wedding_.” Elise led the dog away, her retainers trailing after her. 

Once she was gone, Leon and Marx exchanged glances. Takumi wondered if that was how he came across when he was fifteen.

* * *

At dinner, Takumi found himself displaced to the second table, where Sakura sat by his side. At the head of the banquet, Leon was surrounded by Eirene and a dozen high-ranking lords of Nohr.

For the longest time, Takumi had thought that Leon was incapable of being awkward. He realized, watching Leon carry on a lively conversation with four people at once while complimenting Eirene on her taste in grape wine, that he _had_ seen Leon being awkward, back in Hoshido. It was clearer now, now that he saw how gregarious Leon could be.

He knew that on some level Leon was putting on a show for them, but Leon seemed so comfortable when he was entertaining that it was hard to claim it wasn't a part of him. Just like the softhearted friend, the cold politician.

Leon the host looked like he would be busy again tonight. Takumi hadn't had a chance to speak to him alone since they left Amusia.

But maybe it was for the best. Leon was to be married the next day, after all. If he grabbed Leon and confessed to him now, at best he'd look like some desperate idiot trying to stop the marriage at the last moment. Takumi could already imagine him saying, _Why are you telling me that now?_

So Takumi resigned himself to putting it off for a little longer. As appetites were filled and guests lingered to talk, he stayed to chat with Sakura about turning sixteen.

“Orochi said she'll help arrange the coming-of-age ceremony for when we get back,” she said. “I hope it won't be too much of an occasion. I'm not good with these things...”

Takumi gave a playful scoff. “What are you talking about? You're a natural in court these days.”

She frowned at him. “I've become better at conversing with others, perhaps. I do what I need to, in order to alleviate the people's suffering. Yet I would still prefer not be the center of attention.”

“You'll do fine. You remember mine, right?”

“I thought you wanted everyone to forget that you dropped the sword and fell over in the armor trying to pick it back up,” Sakura said.

Takumi winced. “ _The point is_ , I made some mistakes but everything worked out.”

She giggled, and said, “Thank you, Brother. I think it will be all right.”

Sakura took the napkin from her lap and folded it neatly next to her plate, preparing to rise. Takumi stood up next to her and sloppily folded his as well, saying, “Well, it's been a long day. I think I'll turn in.”

Sakura nodded and said she would do the same, when he heard Leon saying, “Ah, Prince Takumi—”

Takumi turned around to find Leon disentangling himself from the people at the head table, striding over to him with a friendly expression and a hint of desperation in his eyes. “You promised you'd perform the _kasa-no-michi_ ritual for me—for luck on my wedding day.”

For one moment, Takumi wondered what Leon meant by “the way of the umbrella” before he realized that it wasn't supposed to mean anything.

“Right,” Takumi said conversationally, “there's still enough time to finish it in time if we start soon.”

“You'll have to excuse me,” Leon said to the entourage at the table. “The Hoshidans say they have a way of guaranteeing a firstborn son, and I find myself unwilling to take a chance on the matter.”

Eirene jumped on the chance to add, “Yes, I have my own preparations to make as well,” rising from the table and turning to her retainer pleadingly.

“Good night, milady. May we meet again tomorrow.” Leon gave them a cheeky smile, then exchanged glances with Takumi and headed off confidently out of the banquet room.

Once they were well out of earshot, Takumi said, “The way of the umbrella? Seriously?”

As he led them through a series of impressively furnished rooms, Leon said, “Well, none of them know Old Hoshidan, so it didn't matter. I just used the first word that came to mind.” 

“You know, I've heard of a ritual for conceiving sons,” Takumi said thoughtfully. “It's not Hoshidan—I think it was something the Kan rulers did—but it's close.”

“Oh? What is it?” Leon pushed open one last door to reveal a bedroom. Surprised by the lack of guards, Takumi glanced behind to find that Zero had followed them back to Leon's chambers, taking up watch outside the door.

Zero gave him a conspiratorial smirk. Leon pressed his hand against the panel in the wall and lamps across the room slowly glowed with light, casting the room in a cool glow.

“You're going to think I'm making this up,” Takumi said as he stepped into the bedroom, Leon closing the door behind him, “but it consists of having an unmarried male friend lie in your bed before your wedding.”

Leon's bedroom was less lavish than Takumi would've expected. Two tall windows—old-fashioned, barred lengthwise with fancy metal slats—occupied the wall to his right, where there was a small tea table with a pair of chairs. The bed made with shiny blue sheets was near the middle of the room, pushed against the wall, with a lamp glowing on the nightstand next to a small pile of books. On the other side of the room there was what appeared to be a bureau and a dresser, with a second lamp glowing on top of it. But for the books and a few knick-knacks on the dresser, Takumi thought it was rather utilitarian.

Leon snorted as he unclasped his belt and set Brynhildr and his satchel upon his dresser, next to an amateurish wooden carving of a dragon. “Be my guest. I don't see why you'd want to. It's softer than the one in your guest room.”

Takumi left his shoes by the door and flopped backwards into Leon's bed, laughing. “I'm seriously not making this up.” He sank deep into the mattress, feeling the sheets trace his outline.

“How are you not making this up?” Leon joined him, propping up his grinning face in one hand. His elbows sank into the ridiculously malleable bed that would surely cause him back pain someday. “You're telling me that my excuse to get out of entertaining all night was _exactly_ some ancient civilization's fertility ritual?”

“Yes,” Takumi said sincerely, turning his head a little to look at Leon. Even under the blue, sterile glow of the magic lights, even at this distance where Takumi could see the tiny blemishes in Leon's skin, he was absurdly beautiful. The outline of his face sloped down heartlike toward his chin, edges softly shadowed by his fine cheekbones, the lamp on his nightstand reflected in his eyes like two oval boats adrift in the darkness.

Takumi caught himself about to swallow and stopped himself.

“You're pulling my leg,” Leon said.

“I'll find the book sometime,” Takumi said, not interested at that moment in bantering with him. They had been on the road from sunrise to sunset and Takumi found nothing more soothing than this moment, lying here gazing at Leon.

“I'm going to hold you to that.” 

Having gotten the last word in, Leon let his face fall into the bedding with a great sigh. He stayed like that for a moment. Takumi wondered if the bed could smother him.

When he resurfaced, face pink from pressing into the sheets, Leon said, “I don't think I've ever heard so many marriage proposals for my brother over the course of an evening.”

“I'm surprised you're marrying before him,” Takumi said.

“We were supposed to get married together.” Leon rested his head in his arms. “The idea was that he would go after Lady Hortensia of Notre Dia. But as it turns out, Lady Hortensia is a willful creature with an obliging father, and she turned down the King of Nohr in favor of a sailor.”

“A _sailor_?”

“Well, he does own the boats,” Leon said dismissively, “but he's still a sailor.”

“So she didn't like that your brother can't swim?”

Leon cracked a grin and said, “I don't think their personalities worked well together. Marx doesn't have much... experience with winning women. I wonder sometimes if I should've tried to win her over.”

Concealing how much he disliked watching Leon win over women, Takumi said conversationally, “Why didn't you?”

“Because Muse is a desperate nation struggling to rebuild and Notre Dia is powerful and fiercely independent. They knew we were also courting Muse, and we couldn't have offered them our second best.” It shook Takumi, for a moment, to hear Leon refer to himself as _second best_. “Because Marx's firstborn will be the next ruler of Nohr, and being of Notre Dian blood would have let him finally bridge the gap between us and their isolationism.”

A pause passed between them.

“So, I'm marrying Eirene for Nohr while Marx finds himself free to choose his bride,” Leon said quietly. “I suppose that's the way everything's gone lately.”

“Zero said something like that,” Takumi said. “Seems unfair of him. Your brother, I mean.”

Leon sighed and said, “It's not his fault. It's what I have to do. There's little love for the royal family as it is. We can't give them more reasons to want to overthrow their king.” He rolled onto his back, weaving his fingers together and resting his hands on his chest. “I'm more expendable. A reign can survive with a detested prince.”

And to think that Takumi had once thought of Leon as arrogant and self-centered.

“You're strategically sacrificing yourself, then,” Takumi said softly.

Leon let out a breathy half-laugh and said, “At least I've succeeded in spiting my mother. Using people like she taught me to, all to glorify Ekaterina's son.”

Leon never talked about his mother, but Takumi had assumed that he had been close to her, considering how his father had turned out. It was startlingly sad to hear the bitterness in his voice.

There was nothing to say to that. Takumi inched closer so that their hair almost touched. “Sorry I brought that up.”

“I don't mind. It's nice to have a chance to complain.” Leon moved just enough so that their heads bumped lightly together. Leon's hair smelled sweetly of soap, his own scent lingering light and pleasant underneath. If Takumi turned his head to the side, he could have buried his nose in that hair—he couldn't. He didn't.

And tomorrow Leon and Eirene would lie in this bed together and grudgingly consummate their marriage.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow night?” Takumi said.

Leon tilted his head away (to Takumi's disappointment) as he thought. “No,” he concluded.

“No?” Takumi echoed. “I'd be terrified of embarrassing myself, trying for the first time with a stranger.”

“It's not my first time.”

Takumi tamped down a flare of unreasonable envy and only said, “Who was it?”

“Her name was Marie. She was the maid who'd fetch me breakfast.”

“Your maid,” Takumi echoed, thinking to himself that Leon had never struck him as someone who fell for servants.

“Well, I was fourteen. We shared a mutual attraction, and as my father's son I thought it'd be fun to have her.” Leon gazed up at the ceiling, his eyelashes long in profile, his shoulders relaxed against the bed. “It was nice. I wrote bad poetry for her.” He paused, and said, “My mother had her banished when she found out. Said it was dangerous to sire heirs under the circumstances.”

Leon sighed and let his head fall back toward Takumi's again, touching their temples. 

Out of all the things he could've asked, Takumi found himself saying, “Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” 

Leon closed his eyes, his forehead warm against Takumi's. Takumi moved his arm and found Leon's, who let his hand fall to the side. Without quite knowing who had started it, they found their fingers twined together.

Without opening his eyes, Leon murmured, “I don't think you know how much you mean to me.”

Weak and giddy and scared, Takumi whispered back, “Sometimes I can't believe you like me at all.”

“I do. I don't think I've ever had a true friend before you. Just—allies.” Leon's eyelashes fluttered in thought, so close to his face that they blurred out of focus. “When I think that you've seen the worst of me, and yet...”

“It feels nice having nothing to hide,” Takumi said quietly. The one secret he kept turned over and over again in his mind as he tried to find the right way to set it free. 

Leon sounded very calm as he said, “I wonder, sometimes, if I might love you.”

Takumi's breath seized.

Leon must have felt him flinch where their arms were connected. If so, he didn't mention it.

Takumi haltingly tried, “You know—in the book we were reading together, there was a passage, later on, about how people were once two-headed...”

Leon hummed in recognition. “Until the gods split them apart, forever searching for their other half.”

“—And once those halves meet, they're lost in love and friendship and intimacy. I thought of us.”

“Takumi, people usually reference that passage to talk about lovers,” Leon said teasingly, and Takumi's gut twisted.

Was that not what Leon had meant all along? How could he _not_ —didn't the word “love” come out of his mouth first?

Leon moved his head away just enough to look at him with eyes in focus. “Or is that what you meant?”

The night air was cool on Takumi's forehead as he swallowed, a fleeting premonition warning that he had taken the wrong turn somewhere, but still—how could he lie, with the two of them together in Leon's room, their arms intertwined like they could have fused together—what choice did he have, but to drown bravely with the truth?

Unable to summon his voice, Takumi squeezed Leon's hand. Willing him to silence all doubts.

Leon's eyebrows pulled together in one quick troubled movement. Then he was calm, too calm, as he gingerly extracted his hand and rested his arms upon his own chest.

Takumi took his hand back too, as if mirroring him could have changed what it meant when Leon had pulled away.

“In the name of our friendship,” Leon said levelly, “I'll take your silence as a no.”

“All right,” Takumi said. 

It wasn't all right. Leon had closed off beside him and Takumi did not belong here in Leon's feather bed and none of it felt all right. He just needed to keep hope that Leon could still be his friend if he was _all right_ with this.

Leon said nothing. And Takumi said nothing. The idea that Leon meant what he said, that their friendship could be spared, seemed to grow more improbable by the second.

Finally Leon said, “It's getting late.”

“You want me to go.”

Takumi didn't realize how bitter it sounded until it came out.

“I'm getting married tomorrow. I don't want to deal with this tonight,” Leon retorted.

“I didn't think you'd make a big deal out of it,” Takumi said, pushing himself up from the bed.

“You've been deceiving me this entire time and that's somehow _not_ a big deal?”

“I haven't been _deceiving_ you!”

“Well, how long has it been, then?” Leon said coolly, rising to sit as Takumi swung his legs off of the bed. “When did you start flattering me so that you could get into my bed? Was it before or after I opened up to you about my father?”

“Fine, I'm leaving,” Takumi snapped, jamming his feet back into his shoes. His ponytail dangled low on the back of his head, loose from laying upon it. “You're such an asshole.”

“If you're going to leave, leave,” Leon said, crossing his arms.

“I'm _leaving_.” 

He yanked the door open. 

As he left, Takumi said, “So you know, I meant everything.”

Then he slammed the door shut.

Now Takumi was alone in the hallway, alone and not even by himself. Zero leaned against one wall, smirking with smug self-satisfaction.

Quietly, so that Leon couldn't hear him through the thick door, Takumi said, “Why did you do that?”

“That look on your face,” Zero said, smile stretching long and thin.

Takumi hadn't thought that he would've been exempt from Zero's cruel hobbies, not really, not even after they'd saved each other in Chevalier—or maybe he did, maybe he did think that they shared something for scampering out together. Maybe he thought that as a man who liked men Zero wouldn't have subjected him to this kind of pain. Which only went to show that he didn't know Zero at all. Except for one thing that he had always thought was true, even when he hated Zero the most: “I didn't think you'd use your own precious master against me.”

Suddenly there was a hand yanking at the back of his hair and Takumi hissed in pain as Zero murmured in his face, “You know nothing, sweet prince. Go back to Hoshido where you belong.”

Zero shoved him down the hall as he let go. Takumi stumbled and caught his footing, whirling around, halfway prepared to slug him in his ugly sneering face, but Zero had one calm hand resting on his quiver while Takumi was unarmed and Hinata wasn't around and Leon wouldn't have saved him—and he couldn't bring himself to call Zero's bluff.

His hairpiece dangled low by his neck at the ends of his hair, almost fallen out. Takumi pulled it free from those last resisting strands and held it in hand as he turned and walked, defeated, to his guest room.

* * *

Hinata was guarding the guest room when he returned.

“Why are you guarding my room?” Takumi said. “There's no one in there.”

“I was waiting for you here,” Hinata said, looking a little hurt. “I thought you wanted some space, milord.”

“Right,” Takumi said. He shouldn't have lashed out at Hinata. But at the moment he found it difficult to care. Hinata glanced down at the hairpiece in his hand, and Takumi blew past him to enter the room.

“Did something happen?”

Takumi didn't answer him. As he set his hairpiece down on the dresser, his disheveled reflection appeared in the mirror, looking particularly bedraggled by the dim light from the fireplace. He looked almost as horrible as he felt. He picked up the ivory comb left on the dresser and ran it over the tangled mess at the back of his head—little pricks of fire rose to his sore scalp, forcing him to slow down—to be _patient_ with each little snag—which just... where was Oboro when he needed her, why couldn't Hinata do anything with a comb, how the hell had his hair managed to get so tangled anyway—

He turned and hurled the comb against the far wall, watching it bounce and clatter to the floor.

Aware that Hinata was still watching, he said, “Hinata, just leave me alone.”

Hinata boldly entered the room, closing the door behind him. “I have a better idea, milord.”

“What,” Takumi said flatly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the dresser. He didn't want Hinata to cheer him up. He wanted Hinata to leave him alone so he could vent all of the hurt and anger boiling within him.

Hinata walked over to the checkered table in front of the fireplace, opening the small drawers in its sides. “I knew it!” he exclaimed, scooping out two sets of game pieces in black and white. “Let's play chess, milord.”

“I'm not in the mood for chess,” Takumi said, willing Hinata to just _listen to him_ for once.

Untying the cushion from one chair, Hinata said, “I'll leave if you can beat me.” He said it so seriously that Takumi, despite everything, let out a snort of contemptuous laughter and joined him by the chess table.

“Fine. One game, then.”

He figured he owed it to Hinata after yelling at him, anyway.

Hinata took the cushion off of the chair and laid it on the floor, kneeling—not quite sitting—on it, grinning over the chess table that went up to his chest. Well—why not? Takumi followed suit, untying the cushion from the chair, setting it on the floor, and shoving the chair aside as he settled in by the chess table. Hinata had already set out the pieces, and Takumi ran his eyes over both ends quickly to make sure that he'd put the king and queen in the right positions.

“Okay,” Hinata said with a completely ridiculous look on his face, “I hope you're ready for the new stratagem I've thought up.”

“If you move your pawns forward one by one I'm never playing with you again,” Takumi said flatly.

It turned out to be a fairly ordinary game with Hinata—no stupid gimmicks—but beneath his swaggering, he had in fact learned from the last few times they had played chess. When Hinata made a particularly good response to one of Takumi's lazier moves, he found himself wrapped up in pondering the implications when there was a knock at the door.

Two crisp raps—Leon.

Hinata stood at the ready as Takumi said for caution's sake, “Who is it?”

The door opened. It was Leon, just like he had thought.

Leon's eyes flickered briefly to Hinata, and in an instant his face was falsely benevolent. “I thought I'd help you turn on the lights,” he said, pressing a hand to the panel by the door. Two lamps burst into light at either end of the room, illuminating every needless detail.

Feeling no need to play along, Takumi snapped, “Thanks, I'm well aware that I'm defective. You can go.”

For a moment, Leon looked conflicted. Then he said simply, “Good night,” and shut the door politely behind him.

Settling back down at the chess board, Takumi stared at the pieces with his next move completely forgotten. And he had just begun to feel better, too. 

He was sick of Leon's half-assed apologies. If he wanted forgiveness, he could apologize like he meant it.

Takumi didn't know if he'd be able to forgive him even then.

Hinata was looking at him across the chess table with concern etched all over his face. Takumi didn't want to hear whatever Hinata wanted to ask, and he was beyond caring about chess. He took Hinata's bishop in what was probably a poor move, just to distract him.

Hinata paused for just a split second, like he couldn't believe what Takumi had just done, before swiftly moving his knight to recapture the space. Takumi sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. And now he was going to lose to Hinata at a strategy game.

“You could still catch him in the hallway if you go now,” Hinata said.

“I am _not_ going after him,” Takumi snapped.

Hinata fell into silence as Takumi advanced a pawn to try to salvage his position. Hinata pushed a pawn in response, even though it did little to help him—falling back into his bad habit of making pointless moves when there wasn't any clear threat to address.

Now Hinata wasn't thinking about chess either.

Feeling bad about taking his anger out on Hinata again, Takumi said as an explanation, “I don't want to see him anyway.”

Hinata gazed at him for several moments as if thinking something through, before finally asking, “Milord, what did he do?”

Takumi looked into Hinata's eyes and found himself wishing that Hinata knew.

They ate together, bathed together, went hiking together, traveled together for a decade. They had had dozens of arguments, and Hinata had put up with many nights like tonight where Takumi was unpleasant to him for no fault of his own, and never through any of it had he given Takumi any reason to doubt that they would still be close the next day.

But he had trusted Leon too. He had trusted him right up until Leon tossed him out of his room as if he were a monster.

He was too tired tonight to find out if Hinata would treat him any better.

“I don't want to talk about it right now,” Takumi said.

And like always, when it was truly important, Hinata didn't pry. They knelt there quietly distracting themselves with chess until the magic lamps lost their light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no update next week, November 6th. This chapter was long and took a lot out of me. Also, life has had some nasty surprises for me lately which has definitely throttled my writing speed. 
> 
> Chapter 14 will be posted on 11/13 and Chapter 15 will be posted on 11/20, which will conclude this arc, and then I'll be taking a multiple-week hiatus to spend quality time with a friend over the Thanksgiving season. If all goes well, the next update after that will be 12/11. If not so well, a week after that.
> 
> Also, if you were wondering, [the thing about bachelors in your bed helping son production is ~~allegedly~~ a real thing](http://kaleidoscope.cultural-china.com/en/12K5460K11519.html), ~~although I haven't been able to find anything corroborating this single website's claim~~. Edit: [This comment](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/42841508) goes into detail about the real life traditions. Thanks azurrys!


	14. Spring in Nohr (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Strong** cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/256881.html) (beware spoilers). This chapter is **M-rated**.

“You should tell him you love him,” his mother said. A faint blue aura wafted around her and he didn't remember why. “You trust me, don't you?”

Takumi reached out to open the door to Leon's room. He turned the handle and suddenly there was an explosion of flame—

* * *

The night air was cold in his lungs. His back ached from how his hip sagged into the bed.

Takumi wrapped the blanket around him for warmth and padded over to the cushions laying on the floor before the fireplace. The pieces from the last chess game—Takumi's victory—cast long shadows where they stood.

He sat on his cushion sideways, facing the fireplace, and leaned sideways against the chess table.

He had no idea what he was doing. He just couldn't go back to sleep.

* * *

The only sign that Leon had lost any sleep over last night's events was the slightly unnatural cast that a thin layer of paint gave his complexion. And that sign was probably lost to all other members of the crowd among all the paint, gold, and satin covering every other person in the great hall where the marriage was to be conducted. For all that he'd heard about Nohrian poverty, they seemed to spare no expense for the event. The women's gowns in the room must have accounted for half of the silk that Hoshido had ever exported.

They had put Eirene in a white gown made of silk with purple embroidery along the bottom. The red one had been better on her—white emphasized her drab pallor—and the shape of the thing tried too hard to make up for her figure by puffing out absurdly at the hip, as if cloth could make up for flesh-and-blood beauty. It was a blatant misuse of good silk.

Leon was wearing some black-and-blue outfit not unlike the one he had worn in Amusia. He had physical beauty to spare, except that it had been wasted on a heartless craven. Ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside—Takumi decided that they were perfect for each other. He could almost stand it when they kissed.

Sakura tapped at his arm as they filed out of the sacred hall to the reception area. “Brother, are you well?”

“I'm fine,” Takumi said, crossing his arms.

Sakura looked at him for a bit longer, giving him room to change his mind. He didn't.

If he could just stew in feelings of contempt for Leon and his bride, he really might have been fine. That was why, when he saw his mother's torn body lying in the plaza, he had thrown himself into condemning Kamui, destroying Nohr.

Hatred never did manage to hide the sharp edges of grief. It didn't then and it didn't now.

Under the blaze of his anger smoldered a layer of hurt left behind by how deeply he used to trust him. Leon had been his first and only in so many ways—the first one who shared all of his interests, the first one he could talk to about all the thoughts he shouldn't have been feeling, the first one he had fallen for with full self-awareness—the first one he had told about his inclinations and the first one to reject him for it.

Why did the person who made him feel so complete have to be that way?

“Give me one moment,” Sakura whispered, giving his arm one last squeeze before leaving his side. He watched Sakura weave through the crowd, wondering what had caught her attention until he saw Elise some ways apart in the crowd, looking somber. Apparently Sakura's sympathy was in high demand today.

Takumi stood off to the side, Hinata silently shadowing him. There were several tables filled with appetizers he didn't want to eat. No one else at the wedding seemed interested in his presence.

If he could have chosen, Takumi would have wanted it to be a Hoshidan. They could see each other more often and they would have shared a thousand festivals together and if they fell in love they could have traded brief poems improvised and whispered in a style of flirtation that Nohr never knew.

There was never any choice. Of all the people he had ever known, Leon was the only one who he connected with like this. And Leon was also paranoid, cruel in anger, and horrible at admitting his faults. It was all or nothing. 

Somewhere beyond his anger—Takumi realized—he was afraid of ending up with nothing.

After half an hour of watching other people go to the tables, fill up their plates, and congratulate Leon and Eirene, Takumi muttered to Hinata, “Let's just go. I think I'll take a nap.”

* * *

When Takumi woke, there were stripes of orange sunlight shining across the room. Blearily, he glanced at the window, straight into the piercing flare of the sun. 

Takumi cursed and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands against his face. He laid there like that, waiting for the dark round afterimage in his eyes to fade.

Evidently it was late in the afternoon. He had slept the whole day away. 

He realized, as his eyes were closed, that it was very quiet. He couldn't imagine that the festivities were over already. Perhaps the guests had all gone out to another part of the castle grounds to celebrate further.

Takumi's stomach protested loudly, reminding him that the only thing he had eaten was a small slice of bread that morning. Thinking that he'd take the chance to grab dinner without the risk of running into Leon, Takumi rolled out of bed, threw on some of his plainer clothes, and stepped into the hall.

“Good afternoon, milord,” Hinata said. “Slept well?”

“Yeah,” Takumi said. “Surprisingly well. Have the others left?”

“Most of the guests have gone to a concert. Princess Sakura is still here—”

“Sakura's missing out on a concert?”

“Yeah,” Hinata said. “I heard Princess Elise's dog died. Prince Leon stayed behind too.”

“Oh.” It was still a little odd to him that Hinata knew about his fight with Leon, but he was thankful for it now. “Hinata, could you have some food brought up?”

“Sure, I'll go get some,” he said, explaining, “Most of the servants are busy with wedding stuff.”

“Thanks.”

With that, Takumi slipped back into the room, sitting down on the cushion by the chess table again. It was remarkably comfortable. Hinata was clever to think of it.

He wondered exactly how much Hinata had put together about him and Leon. Hinata was brighter than most people gave him credit for—he was impulsive and easily distracted, to be sure, but he did well at anything that kept his attention and he always noticed when the people around him were unhappy, even if he didn't always seem to know why. What did Hinata make of Takumi's behavior, avoiding Leon like a jilted lover? By now, having dwelt on his hurt over and over, Takumi concluded that he was most upset about losing Leon as a friend—but if he thought about how it all _looked_ , it looked a lot like the way jilted women acted in stories. It was a wonder that Hinata still seemed to respect him.

And he was stuck here for a week, too—they had arranged to make the most out of a visit, considering the distance they had traveled. 

He had been so happy to have more time with Leon. Now the idea of the coming week daunted him. He just wanted to go home. There would be plenty of work for the sowing season. He could drop by Oboro's shop so often it'd annoy her, then lay around in an onsen doing nothing until his skin turned red. Instead he would be here, avoiding Leon day after day.

There came a weird pounding sound, echoing to his room from somewhere else in the castle. That was one of the annoying things about staying here in Nohr—he could hear every door slam shut at night, interrupting his beleaguered efforts at sleep. Between that and the cold, stone seemed like such an uncomfortable choice of building material. How did the royal family live in it?

The pounding sound came again, with more intensity. Suspicious, Takumi took his sword belt from the dresser—it was ceremonial, but better than nothing—and crept to the door. His short unmade hair was light on his head as he opened it gingerly, peering into the halls to find them empty.

The pounding came again, accompanied by echoes of a woman's voice yelling something with distress. Heart racing, Takumi left his room and followed the sound down a stairwell—“Elise, _please_ , open the door.”—Was that Elfie's voice?—“ _Elise_ , talk to me. _Elise!_ ”

He found himself at an intersection between several hallways and glanced around, trying to tell where the voice was coming from, Elfie's voice crying “Elise!” joined by Sakura's pleas of, “Please Elise, please let us in—” echoing around him, seemingly from every direction. At last he went with his gut and ran down a hallway—the right one, as the sounds of voices grew louder, finally accompanied by “What's going on?”—Leon's voice—“Open the door. ...I said _open it_!”

Breathless, Takumi ran into the common area just in time to see Elfie level her shield before her, back up, and charge.

The door crashed off of its hinges.

Sakura's eyes went wide. “No, Elise, don't—”

Leon vanished into the room. Takumi finally heard Elise's voice, crying, “No, let _go_ —”

Takumi arrived at the doorway, next to Sakura with stunned wide eyes, just in time to watch Leon grab Elise around the middle, bending her forward as he shoved a hand into her mouth. Clawing at his arm, she screeched indignantly through his hand until she retched emptily—Leon tightened his grip and moved his arm and she vomited, yellow fluid flowing out of her mouth and around his hand, splashing onto the carpet and dripping down Leon's arm. 

She made a choking sound. Leon withdrew his hand for a moment to let her cough. The moment she took a clear breath, he plunged his hand in again over her mewling protests, forcing her to retch again, squeezing her about the middle until more liquid followed, making her dry heave again and again while she clawed at his arm until finally he set her on her feet, seizing her by the shoulders before she could so much as sway.

“What the hell are you doing?” Leon shouted as he shook her.

Coughing and sobbing, Elise whimpered, “Stop—”

“It was just a dog! It was _just a dog_! You're going to _forget_ it in a year, do you understand what happens when you die!?”

“Brother, I can't—”

(Takumi became aware that some people were coming toward them—Harold, looking like a different man in his seriousness, leading Marx and an old man with a staff.)

“Why would you do that? Why the hell would you do that to me!?”

“Prince Leon, that's enough,” Sakura said, stepping past Takumi and going right up to them even as her legs shook.

Leon whirled on her and snapped, “You stay out of this.”

“The healer is here,” she said in a shaking, determined voice. “We need to give her space to breathe.”

Leon glanced up past Takumi, his eyes wild. Some realization seemed to sink in. He slowly loosened his grip all at once, his arms falling down to his sides, leaving a blotchy stain where his right hand had been on Elise's dress.

Elise swayed on her feet, taking quick gasping breaths as Elfie appeared—had she been in the room the whole time?—and caught her, gently leading her to sit on the bed. 

Takumi could hardly look at her. She looked like she was struggling to catch her breath. Was the poison somehow still in her? He had heard before that they could act too quickly to be purged.

Was he watching Elise die?

The old healer entered, and Sakura met him halfway to explain the situation in quiet tones. With one hand, Elfie arranged the pillows on the bed so that Elise could lean back on them—her other hand caught in Elise's, clutched tightly like a lifeline as the girl panted for breath. Takumi watched: Elfie speaking to her softly, Sakura and the healer conversing as if they were discussing a patient in a distant ward, Leon bending over to pick a glass vial from the floor next to the wet spot on the carpet, all their actions so mundane that it was very strange. Just very strange. 

Takumi wondered for a moment if he had fallen back asleep. He had nightmares sometimes where he wondered if he were in a dream and concluded he wasn't, only to wake up several hours later.

Sakura and the healer went to Elise's bedside, murmuring something that elicited a single panicked reply of, “I can't get any air,” her voice high and unnatural, as the two of them leaned in closer to hush her.

Leon looked to the bed, his gaze lingering for a moment before he stepped toward Takumi and the doorway, watching his footing around the fallen door.

Takumi thought he should say something. He had no idea what to say.

Leon's eyes glanced briskly over Takumi, someone behind him (Hinata, who had joined them at some point), Harold, and Marx, as if taking stock of the situation. Vomit dripped from his right hand; his left was curled tightly around the vial.

Then he advanced toward Marx, and as if the rest of them weren't there at all, he murmured just quietly enough so that it wouldn't carry into the room—“Was it worth it?”

“ _Leon_ ,” Marx said, looking stricken at the implication.

Leon pointed into the room with his soiled hand, where Sakura, Elfie, and the healer blocked their view but not the sound of Elise's gasping. “You knew what the dog meant to her.”

“Leon. I had no choice—”

“You could have let it leap at Lord Armand,” he said, anger barely contained in his low shaking murmur. He was quiet, so quiet Takumi couldn't be sure of the next words he said, but it sounded like Leon said, “... you did as Father would've done.”

Marx, taken aback, had no time to form a reply as Leon blew past them and out into the hallway.

Finally, Marx found his voice and called, “Leon. Leon, hold!”

When Leon did not stop or come back, he summoned Pieri from where she loitered near the entrance to the common area and instructed her to bring Leon to his chambers as soon as she could. Then Marx left as well. 

Takumi stood there with Hinata, Harold, and the otherworldly view into Elise's room. The sour smell of vomit wafted in the air.

Hinata rested a hand on Takumi's shoulder, saying quietly by his ear, “I brought dinner to your room.”

Dinner.

That's right. He had sent Hinata to fetch dinner, before all of this started.

“Right,” Takumi said. He glanced once more at Harold, who leaned against the doorway looking in, trapped there as a guardsman—separated from her side by age and masculinity—powerless now to save his mistress.

Then Takumi walked away from it all, Hinata trailing by his side.

* * *

Despite his hunger, the only thing Takumi wanted to eat was the small bowl of tomato soup. He offered the rest to Hinata: the cut of bread, the slices of ham, the mushrooms wrapped in cabbage. Hinata accepted enthusiastically but only got through the ham before he also seemed to lose interest.

It was such an odd thought that Elise might have been dying at that very moment.

“Maybe I should go see how Leon's doing.”

Hinata nodded. “I think he'd appreciate it.”

Hearing Hinata's support only made him more uncertain. “I don't know if he would.”

“Why wouldn't he, milord?”

 _Because he might think that it's all some horrible plot to get into his bed_ , Takumi thought to himself, but didn't dare say.

Instead, he intimated, “He doesn't trust my motives.”

“What motive could you have other than to make him feel better?” Hinata wondered aloud. 

Takumi didn't say anything to that.

“You're best friends. Even if you've had a fight recently, it doesn't matter now. What's important is letting him know that you'll be there for him!”

Hinata's advice always sounded like it came straight out of some inspirational speech. And yet there was always a grain of truth to what he said, somewhere past the blind optimism.

“Maybe I should,” Takumi said. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course!”

Takumi thought about putting on his hair piece first, but didn't. He had been running around all evening without it. Wearing it just for Leon would have been like wearing one's finest jewelry to a funeral. It didn't feel right somehow.

Hinata followed him closely through the dark and chilly hallways, where the sounds of returning wedding guests echoed through the halls. As they ascended one last set of stairs to Leon's floor, Takumi took the opportunity to peek over the balcony overlooking the large hall where the guests had been gathered. 

He caught a glimpse of Eirene—recognizable in that horrid dress—and wondered for a moment if Leon had gone back down to entertain the guests. Takumi wouldn't have put it past him, given the act he had witnessed for the last month. He picked out Marx, standing next to Eirene as they bowed and shook hands with the guests as a final send-off, but no Leon.

He supposed that even Leon had his limits.

“Lord Takumi?” Hinata said.

“Nothing,” Takumi said. “Just seeing what's going on.” And because he couldn't help himself, he added, “King Marx is down there seeing the guests off.”

Hinata said, “Wow.” Neither of them said any more than that.

* * *

The guards eyed him suspiciously as he approached the series of chambers leading to Leon's room. Takumi eyed them back until they silently blocked his path with their spears.

“I am Prince Takumi of Hoshido. Let me pass.”

“The reception area is downstairs,” one guard said in a tone of voice that suggested that he did not think Takumi was lost. “This area is private.”

Takumi thought they might've been the same guards that kept watch when Leon brought him up to his room yesterday. Gambling on that, he said tersely, “I am Prince Leon's _friend_. If you had any sense, you wouldn't test his temper tonight.” 

The guards looked at each other uneasily. Takumi kept his back straight, reminding himself that the length of his hair was unremarkable in Nohr, fixing them with a steely princely gaze until they parted from the doorway with great hesitation.

Takumi passed them, simmering with rage at being treated like a trespasser.

At the end of the hallway to Leon's room, he locked eyes with Zero.

Hinata's footsteps behind him were loud and reassuring. Takumi strode right up to the door as if Zero were invisible to him.

Zero stepped in his path. “Now where do you think you're going?”

“I'm visiting Leon,” Takumi said. “Stand aside.”

“Hmm,” Zero said, one hand shifting under his cloak. “No.”

Takumi took a step closer, their crossed arms almost brushing. At this distance he felt acutely aware of Zero's height as Takumi tilted back his head to keep eye contact. “It's not your place to turn me away.” 

“Lord Leon said he wants to be alone,” Zero said, narrowing his eyes. “That means you leave.”

Two days ago Takumi would've argued with full conviction that he was the exception. In this post-betrayal world, he hesitated.

Zero took that chance to command, “Go.”

Takumi lingered there, trying to think of what he could do, when a voice could be heard through the door: “Let him in.”

Zero's expression was dark as he took one half-step to the side, forcing Takumi to squeeze past him to the door. Hinata, taking up watch in the hall opposite Zero, said, “I'll be waiting out here, milord.” Takumi gave him a nod before pushing the door open.

Leon was seated at the tea table, a glass in his hand and a clear bottle next to him on the table. He did not move as Takumi entered the room and shut the door behind him. The smell of grain spirits hung in the air.

Takumi carefully invited himself to the other chair at the table, watching Leon for a sign as he sat down. Leon was wearing a different set of robes now, his clean right hand grazed with scratches as he lifted his glass to take a drink.

“Have the guests left yet?” he asked, in a calm, flat voice that might've seemed unperturbed if Takumi didn't know him any better.

Takumi knew him and that was why he was afraid.

“Eirene is seeing them off,” Takumi answered, saying nothing of Marx.

“I see.” 

Leon finished his glass, then set it aside, bringing his arm to join the other one held across his middle. He was still holding the empty vial in his left hand. Noticing Takumi's gaze, he held the vial up above the table. He lifted the stopper with a slight motion of his thumb and forefinger—fumbling slightly, thumb slipping along the rim at first—and held it out toward Takumi. “What do you smell?”

Takumi had a feeling he already knew. He leaned in and caught the faintest whiff of something bitter that did not remind him of fruit pits at all. “Blue acid?”

Leon nodded once before pushing the stopper back in, turning the vial around in his unsteady hand. It was a good piece of glasswork, clear and even, with a nicely cut cork stopper slightly darkened with age. “The sale of blue acid has been banned in this country since the end of the war. It was one of the reasons that the assassin's guild was displeased with us from the start. Of course, there are alchemists who will do trade on the black market...”

With Leon looking at him through the finely made vial, Takumi finished, “But this didn't come from a black market seller.”

Leon nodded again, like a teacher pleased with his pupil for following along. There was a glimmer of his condescending confidence, this one familiar part of him—usually Takumi's least favorite part—lending a spark of life to the sleepwalker before him.

“Last year, when I went into Elise's room to comfort her,” he said, voice beginning to fail, “she had one of Camilla's combs on her nightstand.”

Oh.

Elise had found blue acid while going through Camilla's things and when Leon was six someone had tried to poison him with blue acid and—did he mean that he now thought _Camilla_ had done it? But that was crazy—hadn't Camilla shielded him from their father with her own body before?

The last thing he wanted to do was to be the one to suggest it if that wasn't what Leon had meant. 

But before Takumi had a response, Leon continued, “Well, I'm not surprised about what Marx has become. We always knew he'd kill any of us if he had to.” 

Staring in shock, Takumi tried to make sense of why Leon suddenly confessed such a horrible nonsequitur and could only conclude that Leon was very drunk. 

Leon ground the heel of his palm into his forehead as he muttered, “Why can't I trust anyone?”

“You can trust me,” Takumi said softly, sadly, before he realized how self-centered it sounded.

Leon turned his eyes on Takumi, a horribly bitter look in his dark eyes, as if it had all been Takumi's fault to begin with and he had no right to say that. “Can I?”

 _Leon still thinks I—!_ Takumi hated having to quash down his hurt, and yet he had to because Leon was drunk and his little sister might be dying and he thought his older siblings could kill him and if Takumi snapped at him right now, Leon could not have felt more alone.

With resentment creeping into his voice, Takumi met his eyes and said, “Yes.”

Leon stared back. His gaze was more blank than probing, and Takumi found it more unnerving than the times Leon had looked at him as if calculating how to tear him apart. He stayed like that, trancelike, only the slight rising and falling of his chest giving proof that time still moved.

Then he turned his eyes to the bottle and reached out to pour himself another glass, a little spilling onto the table as the stream of drink touched the rim of the glass. When he set the bottle back down, it was slightly less than half empty. 

It wasn't a small bottle. If Nohrian spirits were anywhere near as strong as spirits back home, Takumi thought, Leon was having far too much.

“Leon,” Takumi said quietly, risking his wrath, “I think you've had enough drink tonight.”

Leon let out a dismissive scoff, taking a drink defiantly. “I'm not a gullible drunk,” he said, evidently not noticing that he had admitted to being drunk.

 _No, you're a paranoid drunk._ “You've had half the bottle,” Takumi pointed out.

Leon looked at the bottle and after a moment of contemplation, said, “It's an illusion. There's less volume in the neck.”

“You've had half counting from the bottom of the neck.”

Leon glanced at Takumi, then back at the bottle, as if convinced it was a trick. Ultimately, in his way of relenting, he said, “Will you tell Eirene that I'm ready for her?”

How painful it was, to be ordered like a servant to fetch the bride for his wedding night, given everything that hung now between them. If Leon had his wits about him, Takumi would have thought it was an intentional slight.

“I will,” Takumi said, taking the bottle as he rose. Leon was silent as he walked past his chair.

Takumi paused for a moment before the door, wondering if he should say something, like _Are you all right?_ or _It'll be all right,_ but nothing seemed right. 

Without a word, he closed the door gently behind him.

Zero and Hinata looked up as he came out of Leon's room, breaking off from their staring match.

“Let's go, Hinata,” he murmured. Hinata didn't need to be ordered to follow, but in that moment Takumi had to say something to someone, to reach out to them with his voice—and Hinata, ever faithful, listened. And followed quietly.

Eirene was probably still in the great hall. He navigated through the castle vaguely in the direction of where he thought he had seen her, trying to think of how to explain to her what he had just seen. That Leon was at his weakest as it was. That she should be kind to him tonight, because Leon cared more about her opinion than he let on.

Takumi had found the entrance of the hall when he realized, of all things, that he was still holding onto the bottle of drink and had forgotten to take the cork with him.

He also realized that he wanted to be alone with Eirene when he tried to say these things.

“Could you take this to the kitchen?” he said, handing the bottle to Hinata.

“Yeah,” Hinata said, taking the bottle with both hands, hovering for a moment as if there was something he still wanted to say. Instead, he left saying, “I'll be back at your room.”

Takumi nodded to him, then entered the hall.

The guests had all left. The room seemed tremendously large in its vacancy. A team of black-uniformed servants were mopping at the floor; Marx was nowhere to be seen. But he spotted Eirene with her retainer at the far end of the hall, sitting in one of the humble benches that lined the sides of the room.

He walked across the empty hall to where they were sitting. The retainer noticed his approach first and had a look on her face that was—wary? Protective? He noticed that her hand was on Eirene's back as if in comfort. As he approached, Eirene looked up, fear poorly masked on her face.

Takumi stood before her, all of his carefully prepared words fleeing from his head.

“Yes, Prince Takumi?” Eirene finally said.

“Prince Leon is ready for you,” was all he could say.

Eirene stayed sitting for a moment longer. Then she slowly gathered up all the layers of her gown and stood on her feet.

“I'll come with you, milady,” her retainer said.

In a low, creaking voice, she replied, “Thank you, Eunomia.” Before she left she also said, “Thank you, Prince Takumi.”

He wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, but it sounded strangely sincere. With Eirene gone, he was the only one in the hall but for the servants cleaning the floor. He stood there for a moment in the comfort of his solitude, thinking about the strangeness of a world without Elise and whether Leon would ever recover and what a horrible night it had turned out to be for everyone.

Then he started to walk back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory PSA: Induced vomiting is not a very reliable way of addressing poisoning. The absorption of fluids into the body can be insanely fast--[when you drink water, half of it is in your bloodstream in 10 minutes](http://sweatscience.com/how-quickly-is-water-absorbed-after-you-drink-it/). Modern medicine is amazing and hospitals have antidotes for just about everything up to and including cyanide. If you ever find yourself suspecting poisoning, call poison control and/or get the person to a hospital. 
> 
> Nohr wouldn't have this particular antidote and there aren't restore staves in FE14, leaving them with only one possible course of treatment.


	15. Spring in Nohr (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/257187.html) (beware spoilers).
> 
> As a reminder, Joining of Worlds will be on hiatus for the next few weeks. ~~Updates will resume sometime in mid-December.~~ Final Edit: Chapter 16 will be posted on 2/5.

They had set up one of the nicer rooms near the healer's wing, bringing down the blankets and stuffed animals from her room by the cartload. With little else to do, Takumi had watched Sakura go through Elise's things, picking out quilts she said were Camilla's handiwork and setting them aside, screening out ragdolls with bite marks and short brown hair all over them, only letting them send objects free of ties to anything she had loved and lost. Sakura tackled the situation with steely determination and a surprising lack of tears, conferring with healers and hurrying all about the castle to make arrangements for Elise's comfort before they left for Hoshido. Tsubaki and Kazahana whirled about her, always in the middle of this or that errand, worry written on their faces.

Takumi saw them fitting a ramp over the single step from the healer's ward to a set of chambers on the same floor that they had been remodeling to befit a princess. He went to make use of the archery range to avoid dwelling on what that meant.

The archery range and the library. He passed most of the week in those two places.

Leon, he saw at meals and didn't say a word to. Hinata, who would have been full of overly energetic attempts to offer comfort, stood watch obediently at the entrances of courtyards and rooms on orders to give him space.

Sakura was the only one he spoke with lately. She sought him out every morning, sometimes saying “Let's have breakfast together,” sometimes “Will you take a walk in the gardens with me?” She never mentioned Elise, so Takumi never asked. If she needed a break from handling the whole thing, Takumi wasn't about to impose.

Even though he did wonder how Elise was doing.

One morning two days before their departure, Sakura finally asked, “Do you want to see her, Brother? I think it'll help her to have new visitors.”

He said yes. Seeing her might set some things straight in his unruly imagination.

* * *

Harold kept watch by the door, saluting Takumi and Sakura as they approached.

Sakura tapped lightly at the door with the tips of her fingers, like she didn't want to disturb anyone with her presence. The door opened from inside, and Elfie nodded curtly at both of them before standing aside to let them pass.

It was a nice room, with the sun and breeze gently filtering through a window by a small bed. Elise's stuffed animals overflowed onto a heap on the floor, forgotten in favor of a mass of misshapen paper cranes crowding atop her blanket in reds and blues and greens. There was a blue one half-formed atop a book on her lap, which she set aside as they came in.

“Good morning,” Sakura said.

“Morning,” Takumi echoed.

“Hi Sakura. Hi Takumi.”

All considered, she sounded surprisingly normal, if a bit gloomy. Elfie brought a pair of chairs closer to her bedside and they took a seat. Takumi thought Elise looked older without her bows in her hair. Or maybe it was the way her curly hair fell uncombed upon a plain and faded robe.

“How many cranes does that make?” Sakura said, inclining her head toward the work in progress on the book.

Elise looked to Elfie by the door, who replied, “Two-hundred thirty-one.”

“You make them a lot faster than me,” Elise said sourly.

“My brother and I can help while we're here,” Sakura said, taking a few squares of colorful paper from the nightstand. She passed a few green sheets to Takumi. It was Hoshidan paper, not vellum, and Takumi wondered briefly how it had gotten here. Perhaps Sakura had been planning to make a different wish with a thousand cranes before everything happened.

“Takumi knows how to fold cranes?”

Did he really seem that incompetent? With blood rising to his face, Takumi replied, “Everyone in Hoshido knows how to fold cranes.” And despite having no hard surface to crease the paper against, he was determined to make the best cranes he'd ever made. 

Pinching down creases with his thumb and forefinger, he had only begin to make the guidelines—a step he usually bypassed in his haste—when he caught sight of Elise's hands at work. She pressed the crease against the book with the side of her hand, and when she picked up the paper it reminded him of a lobster's claw, a simple pinching motion between her thumb and her other four fingers as one whole. The blue paper trembled, held in her hands.

Takumi fixed his gaze on his own sheet of paper.

“Did you make these today?” Sakura said, meaning the cranes upon her blanket. Elise mumbled an affirmative sound. “You've gotten a lot better since yesterday!”

Shooting a glance at the crisply folded crane emerging from Sakura's fingers, Elise said, “Not really.”

Takumi looked at the nicely folded crane in his own hands and wondered to himself if he had added to her shame in his competitiveness.

Sakura set her crane down on Elise's bedsheet, so Takumi followed suit. She didn't start on another crane, watching Elise's labored movements with the sharpness of a healer and the patience of a friend.

Elise was nearly finished with her crane. Its head and tail still needed to be tucked upward. With intense concentration, she used her right pointing finger to lift one flap up. The paper curved slowly, yielding back and forth until it finally popped inside out like she wanted. Then she slowly raised the crane's neck. When it was high enough she pressed the base of her left hand to commit it with a crease, visibly relieved to be able to do something without her fingers.

She did it two more times, for the tail and the beak, while Sakura and Takumi watched in excruciating silence.

Elise brushed it off of her book and onto her covers with a sigh, saying, “I need a break.”

Sakura nodded. “We could take a walk in the gardens.”

“I mean a real break,” she said with agitation, sliding down in the bed and turning her back on both of them, cranes tumbling to the floor. “I don't want to work on getting better right now. Can you go?”

Takumi exchanged glances with Sakura, who nodded and rose from her seat, eyebrows drawn in hurt. She picked up the cranes from the floor, and at Elfie's direction, dropped them into a chest by the foot of the bed. They were at the door when Elise said, “I want Takumi to stay.”

Takumi looked to Sakura again, who looked away with a hint of hurt. He wondered if that was what Elise was trying to do. “Uh... sure.”

“I'll be just outside,” Sakura said, loud enough for Elise to hear as she went through the door.

“Elfie, can you give us a moment?” At Elfie's hesitation, she said, “Takumi won't let me do anything. Right?”

“Um. Right.” Takumi had no idea what was going on. Last he knew, Elise didn't even like him anymore.

“If that's what you want... I'll go get breakfast...”

And then Elfie went through the door and shut it behind her, leaving him alone with Elise whose wounds were unknown to him.

Takumi reminded himself that Elise was probably much more worked up than he was. He took what had been Sakura's seat by Elise's bedside and ventured, “What did you want to talk about?”

Elise did not speak or move, her back still turned to him, and for a moment Takumi wondered if she just wanted to be rid of the people who usually kept watch over her.

Finally, she said, “You and Leon talk a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” Takumi said. Not recently, but this wasn't the time to talk about that. “Is there something I should tell him?”

She was silent again, for another long stretch. The silences seemed wrong for Elise, another one of many reminders that nothing was as it should be. Takumi looked at the paper on her nightstand, a stack that cycled through the rainbow several times, ending at the top with green. He wondered if Sakura had taken the time to arrange the colors that way.

“Do you think he'll ever be happy again?”

“What?”

“Do you think he'll be happy again?” Elise repeated. “He's gotten to be just like Marx. All they ever do is worry and work.”

“Leon definitely has times when he's happy,” Takumi said. “In fact, I'm pretty sure seeing you happy makes him happy.”

“It's not the same though, is it?” Elise said, the question rhetorical, her voice flat and low. “There are moments when they're happy. But they're not really happy with life.”

Takumi had an idea of what she was getting at. In honesty he suspected the same.

“They work hard trying to make things better, but things aren't any better. They give up things that made them happy, until all that's left is getting mad at each other all the time. They keep saying it's what they have to do.”

She sighed through her nose, the outline of her body deflating.

“If that's all life is, I don't see the point.”

“Things will get better,” Takumi said. “They always do. Sometimes it just takes a long time for change to happen.”

He wasn't entirely sure it was true, but he needed it to be true for her.

“Maybe in Hoshido they do,” she said half-muffled in her pillow.

Trying not to take offense, he said, “Aren't things better now than they were ten or fifteen years ago? Leon tells me Castle Krakenstein was like a battlefield back then.”

Elise replied quietly, “Things were really nice ten years ago.” Takumi shut his mouth. He had no idea what he was doing. This conversation was out of his depth. He did not know why Elise wanted to have it with him.

There were some sparrows chattering somewhere not too far away, their chirps noisy and discordant, like an argument in birdsong.

Finally, Elise said, “Can you tell Leon that I want to see him?”

“Yeah,” Takumi said. That, at least, was something he could do. Breaking the silence between them suddenly seemed a hell of a lot easier than staying here with Elise. “Do you want him to come right now?”

She made a sound of indifference. “Just let him know, I guess.”

“I will.” Takumi rose from the chair. It seemed wrong to leave a hurting girl in such a cold way. He reached out and patted her gently on the arm, saying, “It'll be all right,” even though he wasn't sure of it. Elise gave no response.

Takumi opened the door and found Marx standing with Sakura outside. They broke off their conversation, and Marx looked past Takumi.

“May I?” Marx said.

“O-of course.” Takumi stepped out into the hall and out of the king's way. Marx strode into the room with a step that seemed, in this situation, terrifying in its sense of certainty and command.

And then it was just Takumi and Sakura loitering outside the door.

“Where did Harold go?” he wondered.

“I told him to go eat breakfast with Elfie,” she said. “I suppose they'll be back soon.”

Takumi nodded once. “I'm supposed to fetch Leon.” After a moment of thought, he added, “I can't believe he hasn't visited her.”

“He did,” Sakura said, sounding weary. “On the first day. She was angry with him and had him thrown out.”

“Oh.” Drama he had missed while avoiding Leon.

The hall was very quiet. They couldn't even hear the rumble of Marx's deep voice. Sakura spoke again. “She's said before that you remind her of a cheerier version of her own brother. She must miss him now.”

“Yeah... I'd wondered why she opened up to me.” Takumi looked at Sakura, who had been tending to this whole business for nearly a week. The skin under her eyes was dark with unspoken worry. His own little sister needed him now. “Sakura, are you okay?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, all of this has to be wearing on you...”

Sakura put her hands over her mouth for a moment, exhaling deeply through her fingers. She closed her eyes and said quietly, “I should've told them sooner.”

“Sakura...”

“I knew she had blue acid, I knew she wanted to—I should've told her brothers so they could get it away from her. I never should've tried to keep it from them.”

Takumi wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Of age or not, she still fit neatly in the curve of his arm. “I understand. We can't help but question our choices now,” he said. “You know it's not your fault, right?”

“Yes, but—I could have prevented it,” Sakura said, her voice going high, tears welling up in her eyes. “She can't walk. She can't write. She can't play the violin. She can hardly even eat by herself. Because I was afraid she would be upset? Why did I do that?”

Takumi hugged her against his side. “Because you were afraid that it would push her over the edge? You had your reasons. I think you made the best decisions you could, and you've been doing everything you can to help. Don't be so hard on yourself.”

“No. I know. She had so many things piling up on her. Everything from Camilla leaving, to meeting her sister at Chevalier, to her brothers fighting, and then Cheri. Perhaps what I really fear is that there might be nothing I can do.” Sakura pulled away from his side to take her handkerchief out of a pocket in her mantle. She dabbed at her eyes, then let her head fall back against his side again, like when they were small and easily frightened.

Takumi held her against his side, thinking about how fortunate he was that Sakura loved life.

“I'm kind of angry at her,” Sakura whispered, as if this one thing—more than anything they had just said—should not have been heard. “She promised me she wouldn't. ...I just know I can't be right now.”

“You're a saint,” Takumi said. “If it were Leon, I would be yelling at him for months.”

It might not have been true, but it got a smile out of Sakura. And that was enough.

* * *

After avoiding him for nearly a week, hunting down Leon proved surprisingly easy. The servants seemed to know exactly where their masters were, and upon hearing that he was running a message for Elise, Felicia immediately volunteered to guide Takumi herself.

He didn't know why Felicia seemed to take Elise's cause to heart more than the other servants. And he was too exhausted to ask.

As they wound down several floors and veered off into a hallway, a little tinny tune became faintly audible. “Prince Leon is so talented, isn't he?” Felicia bubbled in her perpetually sunny manner.

It wasn't all that good. It sounded like a simple piece and it was being played very clinically. He could see why Leon had hidden himself in a distant part of the castle to rehearse. “Yeah,” Takumi said absently, not in the mood to engage her.

They rounded a corner, and in what was becoming a very familiar sight, Zero fixed them with a gaze from the end of the hall.

“Good morning, Mister Zero!” Felicia chirped. “Lord Takumi is here to see Lord Leon!”

“Lord Leon is busy, as you can hear.” He paused to make his point, a few tinny chords wafting over. “Prince Takumi can wait until he wishes to grant an audience.”

Takumi was about to defend himself with _Elise sent me_ , but Felicia jumped in and said, “Now, what kind of talk is that? They're friends! I think Lord Leon will be happy to see him!”

“Are they, now?” Zero said, narrowing his eyes at Takumi knowingly.

“Of course!” Felicia said obliviously. She passed Zero as if he were a bystander and opened the door, bowing for Takumi to enter. “Good luck!” she whispered.

He'd have to remember that Felicia could take Zero down like an arrow to a wyvern. “Thanks, Felicia,” Takumi said, resisting the urge to gloat at Zero as he passed.

Leon had stopped playing. He looked over a large piece of furniture—probably the instrument—to where Takumi came through the door.

“Hey,” Takumi said lamely as the door closed behind him.

“Hey,” Leon repeated from where he sat. Like nothing was wrong.

The sting of betrayal still stuck in his chest as he looked at Leon.

 _When all of this is over_ , Takumi thought, _I don't know if I want to see him again._

Takumi went to the bench where Leon was sitting, his footsteps soundless in the carpet. The room was well-furnished, with drapes across the windows and tapestries lining the walls. It was odd, considering that a fine layer of dust over the furniture and the dulled color of the carpet suggested that it had been in disuse.

Leon scooted over. Takumi sat down to his right. This side of the instrument had a row of white and black teeth, tempting him to press on them.

“It's called a harpsichord,” Leon said. He brought his hand to the keys, fingers curved in an elegant arc as he pressed down, sounding a single chord. “I studied it for a few years to compete with my brother Felipe. I haven't practiced since I was six.”

“That's about when they stopped trying to get me to sit still for shamisen lessons,” Takumi said.

Leon let out a quick breath through his nose like he found Takumi's quip amusing, and yet not quite what he had wanted to hear. He rested his right hand back onto his lap next to his left and started to say something—“I meant to approach you before you left...”—

There was a pink line across Leon's left palm.

On impulse, he seized Leon's wrist and brought his hand closer, confirming with a sense of sinking dread that it was a newly healed wound.

When had it happened? Had Elise's actions pushed him off the edge? Had he been devolving all this time while Takumi was—

Leon, instead of rebuking him, let out a laugh and said, “Relax, Takumi. It's not what you think.”

He gently but firmly tugged his hand back. Takumi took a few deep breaths. It wasn't that he didn't believe Leon—it was just difficult to see it any other way. “What happened, then?”

“I didn't consummate my marriage. Then I 'slashed my palm like a maniac' to stain the sheets. Eirene's words, not mine.” Leon looked at his palm, opening and closing his hand a few times. “I don't even remember doing it. I was pretty gone by that point.”

His heartbeat calming down, he said, “Not surprising, with the way you were drinking...”

“I remember you coming by,” Leon said. “Thank you for that.”

Leon could make it so hard to resent him properly. One small thank-you did nothing to erase everything Leon had said to him—it wasn't even an apology—and yet it made Takumi feel like he was being unreasonable to think that their friendship could be over.

Leon started to speak again—“I've been meaning to tell you... I've been thinking about what happened the night before my wedding.”

Oh. He was actually going to apologize. 

“I'm not sure how to say this. I was tired that night and I know I overreacted...”

 _I'm not sure how to say this_ —He still wouldn't say it was his fault!—Takumi cut in, “Would it kill you to say you're sorry?”

Leon blinked twice, like he had been startled completely out of his train of thought. “... What?”

“You accused me of 'deceiving' you just to get in your bed, then you kick me out of your room, and then you come over like you're going to apologize but you insult me instead—”

Clamping his eyes shut and clenching his jaw, Leon hissed, “Takumi will you let me finish? Yes, I'm sorry, I'm trying to tell you that I...”

Takumi held back his rage, waiting to hear what terribly important thing Leon thought he had to say, doubting it would matter.

“I... think I might not... feel so differently.”

This time Takumi was completely thrown. “What?”

“You know,” Leon said, gesturing with his hands as if that would help the words come forth, “I asked you if you thought of us as lovers, and you said yes, and I... I think I panicked, and it didn't sink in until later that...”

Was Leon trying to tell him that he was interested? No way. There was no way that was what Leon meant. He was probably misunderstanding him again, like when Leon had said something about “love” that night.

Leon covered his face with his hands and said, muffled through his palms, “If you've changed your mind, forget I said anything.”

“Leon,” Takumi said tentatively, “are you trying to tell me that you're in love with me?”

“I'm not sure,” he croaked into his hands. “I might be. I'm not sure. I think I may be losing my mind.”

Leon had shrunk himself on the bench, his shoulders curled inward, his head down in his hands. For a moment Takumi wondered, _Am I really so hard to love?_

Then he remembered agonizing in his room the night he read Mikoto's letter. It had, after all, only been six days since he had put the thought in Leon's head. In those six days Leon had dealt with a wedding he didn't want and the near-death of his little sister who would then reject him.

All considered, he was holding up pretty well.

Takumi tentatively laid his arm around Leon's shoulders. “Take your time. I'll still be here once this whole thing has blown over.”

Leon took his hands away from his face, staring at the space under the keyboard, surprisingly dry-eyed but pensive. “I wouldn't be surprised if you went back to Hoshido and decided to be done with all of this.”

“I won't,” Takumi said, patting his back. “I mean, knowing you don't actually think that I'm...”

“I'm genuinely sorry about that,” Leon said, looking him in the eye. “You did nothing to deserve the way I treated you.”

It was amazing how good it felt to hear those words. “I forgive you.” Takumi looked back, thinking about how strange and timid Leon could be with his confidence shattered. “I'll be there for you, I promise.”

Gazing at him, Leon said, “Thank you.”

The room was empty and silent but for the sound of their breathing. Leon's eyes were lit amber-brown by the morning light streaming in between the drapes.

“Um, I came here to tell you—” Takumi said, finding his voice hoarse, and having to clear it before he went on, “I came to tell you that Elise wants to see you.”

“Does she,” Leon echoed with a hint of sadness, lowering his eyes.

“I didn't mean...” Takumi started, suddenly aware that he'd ruined the moment. “Um, I'm incredibly glad we had this talk before I left...”

“Yeah,” Leon said softly. “Me too.” And then, “I should go see Elise.”

Leon brought his face a little bit closer, and Takumi held his breath, not daring to guess at what he was about to do.

He left a light, soundless kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, Takumi,” he murmured, his face flushed.

It was less and yet much more than what he had been expecting. By the time Takumi managed, “Y-yeah, no problem,” Leon had already risen from the bench, leaving his arm empty. Takumi let his arm fall back to his side, asking, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“I think I need to do this by myself.” Halfway to the door, Leon stopped and looked back. “By the way, Takumi,” he said, his voice still low, “I'd prefer if you kept this between us.”

“If you want,” Takumi said, still in a daze, slowly remembering why he had come and where Leon was going. “Oh, and uh. King Marx might be there. With Elise.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Leon said, turning back toward the door.

Takumi called, “It would mean a lot to her to see you two getting along.”

Leon stopped with his hand on the door. He looked back at Takumi, a hint of resentment in his eyes as he said, “I know,” and passed through the door.

And then Takumi was alone with the harpsichord and the lingering feeling of a kiss on his cheek.


	16. Summer in the East

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the wait. I lost control of my life for awhile there, just as the story was getting to some of its most complex parts.
> 
> From here on out, I'll be updating in blocks. That means I'll write a block of chapters where the last chapter provides a pretty decent place to put things on hold. Then I'll edit while posting weekly(ish) until I hit the end of the block. After that, you'll have to wait until I've got the next block ready. I'm doing it this way to avoid leaving you all waiting at awful unsatisfying cliffhangers while giving myself the time to make sure that I can be satisfied with the quality of my writing. For what it's worth, all of the chapters from here on out are looking to be on the longer side compared to the chapters up until now.
> 
> I'm going to post 17 and 18 a little earlier to avoid posting Chapter 18 on 2/19 (the NoA release date for FE14). Approximate update schedule for the rest of this block:  
> Chapter 17: Tues 2/9~Fri 2/12  
> Chapter 18: Sat 2/13~Wed 2/17
> 
> The next block will consist of either one or two chapters, depending on how certain things go, and will probably be ready in March if all goes well. There are probably between 4 and 6 chapters left after Chapter 18 (depending on whether I decide to split two chapters that look like they might be too big).
> 
> I'm tentatively planning to rewrite the first six chapters after I'm done with the story. What I've learned of the localization changes suggests that there's a lot about this story that might not work in the NoA!Fates universe (eg. the issue of Elise's age). I will see this story to completion either way, but I don't know if I will bother to refine it or adapt it to the localization.
> 
> \---
> 
> Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/261726.html) (beware spoilers).

_Dear Takumi,_

_Things are finally settling into place. Lately I've been taking Eirene to plays around the capital. I imagine you might enjoy some of these productions. I'd be eager to discuss them with you; Eirene takes a different approach to analysis. The outings serve their purpose, however. We see plays, then have dinner at some new budding restaurant. It's a very husband-and-wife affair. That might be the strangest part—thinking of myself as half of that unit, as a husband._

_But enough of that. I can imagine you rolling your eyes at my domesticity. Do contain yourself—I'm certain you will also turn into a boring old man someday._

_Well, on to weightier topics. Elise is as comfortable as she can be. I would say she's adjusted to her circumstances, considering that she's been ordering everyone in the castle to wait upon her. Your sister was right to be optimistic about her prognosis: Elise can stand now, and as you know, she also been working at writing letters._

_I have yet to overcome my surprise at her survival. Blue acid is used in assassination because it kills absolutely. Twice now, I thought I'd lost Elise like the rest of my sisters. Twice she came back with a new reason to detest me._

_Lately I have been attempting to spend more time with her. She used to pester me for attention constantly, especially after Camilla left and Marx took the throne. Now, in the face of my efforts, she gives me a bitter look and tells me to “go work.” She's acting as if I tried to expose her as an infant. I swear to you, I was never this difficult at her age. I suppose Elise will be childish forever, whether it's begging for playtime or acting out._

_I imagine this might sound cruel to you. Please humor me, Takumi. I have no choice but to be a perfect big brother here in Vindam. She has been coddled all her life and now they say she needs more coddling—never mind what the rest of us need._

_In any event, I apologize for all of the unpleasantness that transpired during your visit. Everything seems to come to a head in your presence. I hope someday you can return and genuinely enjoy yourself. We hold a fair for our inventors to show their new creations every year in early summer. I think you would be fascinated by the forefront of our technology—I often find myself thinking that it seems like the stuff of stories. We won't be able to catch it this year, but maybe the next. We could also take a trip to the northern mountains. I have never been particularly been fond of hiking, but I imagine you might enjoy it. If we go in early fall or early spring, we might even catch sight of an aurora—colored light in the sky. I hear that you can still see it at times during the night._

_Love,  
Leon_

* * *

_To Leon:_

_I'd love to visit again if you'd have me. Sometimes I wonder if I was born unlucky. Misfortune always seems to follow me around._

_I wouldn't drag you on a hiking trip if you don't like them. I'm sure there's plenty of ways we can both have fun. The fair sounds like it would be fun next year. I think that we'll probably see each other next in Hoshido, though—Rinka is expecting her firstborn sometime late this summer. If it's a son, you'll definitely have an excuse to come visit for a week or so and take a break from everything. I heard you like tomatoes. We have a fruit festival at the end of summer and I think you'd enjoy it. We've been growing tomatoes longer than Muse, you know._

_Anyway, I can't blame you for envying Elise despite everything. After Father died and Kamui was taken, Ryouma was obsessed with what happened to Father, Hinoka was obsessed with what happened to Kamui, and no one had any time for me. I think I even thought at the time that I'd be better off kidnapped. At least they'd miss me. (Of course I've since changed my mind about being kidnapped.)_

_If it helps, I would coddle you any time. I genuinely like doing things together with you, sharing stories with you, all of that. I've been meaning to ask, if you're feeling better—have you come to a decision to where things are going between us? I'll admit that it's been on my mind ever since my last visit._

_Looking forward to hearing from you._

_Takumi_

* * *

_Dear Takumi,_

_I assure you that any rumors you may have heard of my feelings toward tomatoes are greatly exaggerated. With that being said, I'm a little confused as to why tomatoes would feature in a fruit festival. I know that there were some merchants in Muse who tried to argue for tomatoes as fruits to evade taxation, but surely that wouldn't have affected Hoshidan tradition? Do you mean “fruit” in the botanical sense of the fleshy part of a plant that holds seeds?_

_Allow me to contradict myself—Yes, I'm tentatively interested in your tomato festival._

_Speaking of firstborns, Eirene seems to be showing the earliest signs of being with child. She has gone through a ridiculous amount of grapes and watermelon. (Even her cravings are rejuvenating her homeland's economy.) According to superstition, that would suggest that a daughter is on the way—not that I believe superstition. It's simply difficult not to speculate._

_I'm going to be a father. I admit that I'm a little nervous. I've always known that I would someday produce an heir, but I have never known what it means to be a good father. The philosophers of old suggest that the father's duty is to provide a model for his son to follow, and that the son must earn his father's respect. That was the tradition under which I labored. I wouldn't wish it upon my child._

_Does Hoshido have a different notion of fatherhood? I can't imagine that this is the only way it should be._

_Love,  
Leon_

* * *

_To Leon:_

_Why would you think it would be any different here? Do I seem well-adjusted to you? In case you forgot, my father died just before I turned six. My older brother filled in the role and his idea of fatherly advice is to occasionally interject himself into my life to point out that I'm failing in my duty and that I should choose death before the dishonor I'm inflicting upon the family. Does that honestly sound any better to you? You know all of this. I've told you before. I know you're hung up over your father but I'm sick of how you're always coming to me for support without the faintest consideration of how I might be feeling. I guess that was supposed to be my answer? That you've consummated your marriage and you're going to have a son, so no, I don't belong in this picture? You could've given me a straight answer. What are you playing at, trying to quietly keep me as a friend while never acknowledging that I have things I want, I've been hurt, actually, you've kept hurting me ever since I made the mistake of trusting you. I've been holding back all this time because I've been trying to be a considerate friend but you know what, I don't feel like holding back anymore. If that makes me a shit friend I don't care. I'm tired of always lying down and taking it because of your needs when you won't even condescend to even tell me, “Hey, I've thought about it and I just want to be friends.” Maybe I_

 

Takumi stared at the letter he had been writing. Faint sounds of the hall guards' conversation, too muffled to discern the words, drifted through the walls into his room, which daylight illuminated with white gentle light.

He knew he shouldn't send this letter. Not unless he was truly set on never speaking to Leon again.

Takumi folded the letter and hid it beneath the jar of water for his brush. The next messenger wouldn't leave for another two days. He didn't need to respond to Leon right at this moment. The day was still young.

He'd blow off some steam by getting out of the palace. As he put on his coat and tightened his ponytail, he thought that he might swing by Oboro's shop. She had come by the palace the other day to mention that things were settling down and that she would like to spend more time with him.

Takumi left the castle quietly without telling Hinata, only a sword at his side. He didn't want to expose him to any more of his venting about Leon. Hinata, Takumi feared, might have started to put the pieces together about the nature of their relationship.

And to think—in Muse he had argued against ever traveling alone. Well, Hoshido was safe.

The door to Oboro's shop closed behind him with a chime. He stood in a small room with beautiful fabric hanging along the walls.

“Welcome!” came Oboro's thin voice from the back of the store. She appeared from behind a rack of cloth, and broke into a broad lopsided grin the moment their eyes met. “Lord Takumi! I'm so glad you came to visit!”

“If I knew it'd make you this happy, I would've come again sooner...”

“Oh, no! Now is perfect, milord. I have the shop cleaned up and enough time to give you my full attention. I'm sorry I made you walk into such a mess when you came by for your outfit—”

“No. No, it's okay.” He waved her off with one hand, trying to think of how to say what he'd come to say. “The outfit was great. That isn't why I came. I, um...”

Oboro stopped where she was in the aisle, her grin starting to fade from her face. Her head remained tilted to one side inquisitively, eyes sympathetic.

“I'm... I'm furious and it's eating me up. Someone I thought of as a friend won't talk to me. Actually, he insulted me. And then he stopped talking to me.”

“I see,” Oboro said carefully.

Takumi shook his head and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I just can't sit in my room and think about this anymore.”

Oboro glanced around the shop and bit her lip, avoiding Takumi's eyes. Then she said, “Would you like to come back and have some tea, milord?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Takumi shrugged and followed Oboro as she made her way to the back room of the shop. Sunlight streamed through an old-fashioned slatted window and over a small table. A breeze wafted pleasantly through the window and into the shop as Oboro put some water into a jar in her ceramic stove.

And it was small. Takumi knelt at the table, feeling like he would knock into the walls with his shoulders if he moved too quickly. Her futon was stowed in a roll to his left, out of sight but for his perspective from behind the table. Some part of him felt bad that she had to live in such a penniless way.

Oboro returned from the stove and knelt across from him as they waited for the water to boil.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Oboro.”

“It's no problem at all,” she said.

“I don't know. I can't just let it go. Every time I hear from him and he pretends nothing happened, it's like a blow to the face.”

Oboro nodded thoughtfully.

“I think he's a narcissist. He keeps going on about himself and his life like he's the only one with problems worth listening to. I wish he'd think about what I'm feeling, just once. Just once.” Takumi looked to the side, his gaze only meeting a wall that was entirely too close. “I don't think it'll happen. He never even apologized for kicking me out.”

Leon had technically said _I'm sorry_ , but he'd thrown it out to shut Takumi up, just to continue his own egocentric train of thought. It didn't really count.

“That's cruel of him,” Oboro said. “Is this the Nohrian?”

“Yeah, it's the Nohrian,” Takumi said reflexively. Almost immediately after the words left his mouth, it seemed like the wrong way to put it. But Oboro nodded again, leaving him no room to take it back.

“Milord, if he is unkind to you, he may not deserve your friendship.”

“Maybe,” Takumi said, his heart sinking. The stripes of sunlight were very bright on Oboro's table, burning diagonal afterimages into his eyes as he blinked.

There came a rattling sound from the stove, and Oboro said, “Pardon me, let me see to the tea,” as she rose.

He had thought before, back in spring at the capital of Nohr, that their relationship might have been at an end. It had been such a fleeting thought back then. Coming from Oboro, it started to sound like the truth.

Oboro took the jar from the stove, padding her hands with colorful pieces of cloth. It was completely like her, Takumi thought, to have a table and tea set one step above the peasantry while having oven squares more beautiful than the palace cooks ever bothered with.

She made the tea and brought it to the table, silent as she set a cup upon a saucer before him. It was a little strange. He had never known her to be the quiet type, especially when he had given her the chance to commiserate about how horrible Nohrians were.

She filled both of their cups gracefully before setting the kettle back on the tray at the end of the table.

“Let us dine,” she uttered with a bow.

“Let us dine,” Takumi echoed. He took his cup with both hands and helped himself to a sip. It was good tea, and well-steeped. Despite everything, he found himself thinking that she really would have made a good wife.

And then it struck him. It hadn't been two years since he had shunned Oboro and pretended nothing happened. And now he was here, narcissistically going on about himself.

Takumi set his teacup down on the saucer. He cleared his throat. “Um, Oboro?”

Oboro lowered her cup in her hands and looked at him with the same carefully sympathetic expression as before.

“I think... I still owe you an apology. For a few winters ago...”

Oboro immediately shook her head. “No, Lord Takumi. You don't need to apologize.”

“But I should. You'd just gone through hell for me, and in return I let you down.” _And it's still weighing on you_ , Takumi thought but didn't say.

“No. No, it's fine.” Oboro raised one hand in the air as if to stop him, setting her tea cup back on the saucer. “You had gone through a horrible experience yourself. You are not to blame for what happened.”

“In any case, I'm sorry.”

“Please don't mention it, milord.” 

Takumi wished that she'd just take the apology, say _I forgive you_ or something, even yell at him for being an asshole. Instead she sat there politely, taking in his anger and honesty and regret and showing nothing but calculated sympathy in return.

It was like she didn't trust him with her true feelings anymore. That winter and two years had made a polite, attentive, reserved retainer out of the girl who had fallen for him.

Later, when Takumi returned to the palace, he reflected that he didn't want that to happen between him and Leon. He didn't want to drive him away in anger. He didn't want to let their bond slowly die with time and distance.

He just wanted Leon to talk to him again.

* * *

_To Leon:_

_Please tell me where we stand with each other. The uncertainty has been hard on me. If you've changed your mind, I understand. Please just tell me outright. Are we only friends?_

_Takumi_

* * *

In the stagnant, damp heat of the height of summer, the palace one day exploded into energy, with court exorcists overcome by the spirits of ancestral royalty, all coming to witness the birth of King Ryouma's firstborn. Queen Rinka was kept somewhere in the northernmost ends of the grounds, behind a thick crowd of priests, healers, and court ladies. They said that the flood of kingly ghosts infecting the place meant that a son was likely on the way.

Takumi ignored most of the fuss, because Orochi had confessed to him long ago that only two or three spirits ever bothered showing up, and the rest of the exorcists had plenty of practice at putting on a show. Evidently the departed kings of the past tended to harbor a certain level of disdain for how the world had turned out and would stop visiting after a half-century or so. Even the ones that reveled in the newness of the future tended to feel little lingering ceremonial obligation and had fast grown tired of sitting through the long and gruesome process of childbirth.

So Takumi, at the archery range trying to tune out all of the wailing, was somewhat surprised when messengers ran through the halls crying that a son had in fact been born.

He headed for the chambers, curious to see his new nephew even as he thought to himself that babies were kind of a screaming wailing pain in the butt. He met Hinoka on the way there, and together they awkwardly elbowed their way through a crowd of ladies weeping and hugging each other in joy to get to the birthing chambers.

“Milady—” one of the attendants by the door began.

With a jovial step forward, Hinoka said assertively, “I'm visiting my nephew,” and flung open the door.

The attendants in the room looked up from bloody basins and washcloths. Rinka, wearing nothing at all and only half-covered by a blanket, reclined at the head of the bed looking very frustrated with a little red infant clawing at her chest. 

“Are you going to stand there and gape?” Rinka said.

The two of them shuffled into the room, Hinoka closing the doors behind them. She cleared her throat and said, “I apologize for the intrusion.”

“You're not intruding,” Rinka said. “Come look.”

Takumi realized that he had been staring at the newborn, who hadn't even been swaddled in blankets. He figured that the new prince inherited some of her fire. Once he had asked Rinka once how she could stand to bare so much skin in the dead of winter, and she scoffed and invited him to touch her arm, as warm as if it were summer. The child had her light hair, too, born with a whole head of it like a true Hoshidan.

“He's precious,” Hinoka said. He was red, splotchy, and wrinkled, and not really cute at all. Yet somehow he did seem a little bit precious. 

Takumi nodded along. “Has Brother been here to see him?”

“Ryouma just left to get some sleep. He was here all night.” Rinka looked down at the baby, who squirmed with his mouth on her nipple, and tried to change his position on her chest. “I don't think he knows how to drink. The midwife tells me this is normal, but I think he may be daft.”

Rinka always did have an unbelievable sense of humor. 

“I wouldn't expect too much from a baby,” Takumi said in the underperforming infant's defense. The poor thing was going to have to grow up being compared to Ryouma his entire life—he could at least be given a pass on his suckling skills.

“Do you want to hold him?” Rinka offered brusquely.

“Um—sure—” He held out his arms and soon found his nephew flopped in his arms. The baby's head lolled back past his thumb, his tiny heated form barely larger than the two hands Takumi held him in. “What's his name?”

“Shinonome,” Rinka said as the baby started to make sharp, unhappy sounds.

“He's going to cry,” Takumi said nervously, just before Shinonome broke into peals of indignation.

“Don't hold him like a _watermelon_!” Hinoka scolded.

“You take him!” Takumi held the baby out to Hinoka, who nervously took him into her arms. She had barely settled him onto the length of her forearm when he stopped crying.

“Hi Shinonome,” she said with a honeyed voice, touching her finger to his cheek. He grabbed her finger in one little fist, making her blink in surprise. With a smug look at Takumi, Hinoka said, “I think I like him.”

* * *

After the announcements were sent far and wide, telling of the new Crown Prince's birth, a steady trickle of dignitaries came by Shirasagi to send their well-wishes. Medicine men passed by to bring the news to distant villages. Dukes from independent nations sent ambassadors bearing small symbolic gifts. Chief Nishiki even came in person, placing a hairball into the infant's hand while Ryouma and his nursemaids looked on nervously.

And, one day, a wyvern descended just outside the castle grounds.

Takumi put away his work and waited by a window that overlooked the walkway to the palace. He stood there, watching the empty walkway and the motionless guards, thinking that the wyvern's rider had to come soon.

After some time, a figure in Nohrian garb passed through the gates. 

Takumi knew in an instant that it wasn't anyone he knew. It was some nameless dignitary.

Takumi went back to the workroom. He continued looking through construction requests, still waiting in the back of his mind for a servant to run a letter up to him. The light grew dim. No one came for him.

 _Maybe I'm getting worked up over nothing,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe I've just been obsessed with the idea that I'm interested in him. Maybe I got carried away misunderstanding Mother's letter and I don't know what I want._

He looked down at the next set of blueprints. They were for a bridge.

Blinking and rubbing a hand against his face, Takumi wished Leon were here. The asshole. He could've at least written back. Even if it were to let him down.

* * *

One night, Takumi jolted awake to the sensation of the bed rocking beneath him. He laid there for a moment, heart pounding, thinking that this was one of the oddest ways his mind decided to demonstrate its fear.

Then he realized that he could hear the groaning of wood going back and forth. Something clattered to the floor across the room. The bed was actually swaying underneath him.

He stayed still, praying quietly to the gods that the palace would not pitch and fall. Old nocturnal fear rooted him in the warm security of his bed until the swaying stopped.

Then, when it seemed to have passed, he leapt out of bed, tucked his feet into his sandals, and darted out into the hall.

Lords and ladies were already pouring out into the hall in their nightclothes. The guards were trying to control the crowd, insisting, “The palace won't fall,” all the while guiding them toward the stairs in as orderly a fashion as they could. Takumi joined the stream of people, pressed in on all sides, tumbling, jostling out into the dark courtyard.

“Please remain calm,” Yukimura called, properly dressed and looking quite irritated. “The palace is fine. The palace was built to withstand any earthquakes that might strike. Please remain calm. You are all safe as you are.”

Takumi stood there in the crowd, his heart still pounding as he stared at the palace and marveled at what a masterpiece of engineering and magic it was. He thought about all the old houses he had seen while visiting farmers—it was almost disquieting that the palace had gone completely unscathed when many buildings must have fallen apart.

All of a sudden, he heard a familiar voice shout, “Lord Takumi!”

Hinata pushed his way through the crowd to him, fully dressed with a sword by his side. “Milord, are you all right?”

“I'm fine.”

“I ran into King Ryouma on the way here—he told me that he's sending out flying units to check on the situation. He wanted to know if—”

“I'll go,” Takumi responded immediately. “Prepare a mount. I'll get ready.”

* * *

The capital had gotten through nearly unscathed—it appeared that it had only been so palpable in the palace due to its incredible height. Takumi thought aloud to Hinata, who rode double with him on the back of a golden kite, that the earthquake likely originated from the northern mountain range. But as they flew north alongside Hinoka's squadron, village after village looked largely intact in light of the rising sun. Here and there, a watchtower had fallen over, or a grain silo had cracked, but nowhere did he see the signs of a tremor that would have carried to the capital.

The earthquake didn't come from the northern range. The only other source would have been the Chasm.

“There's no way we would've felt an earthquake from the Chasm all the way in the capital,” Takumi said. “It would've had to be devastating to carry that far.”

“Maybe it's not a normal earthquake,” Hinata said.

“What's that supposed to mean? What kind of earthquakes are there other than... earthquakes?”

From where Hinata's arms were wrapped around his middle, Takumi felt him shrug.

Hinoka seemed to be of the same mind. She circled her pegasus around to fly alongside Takumi, and called, “Let's check on the west.”

Things were eerily calm to the west as well. They took a break in a village halfway between the capital and the Chasm. The villagers were happy to treat royalty with the bounty of their harvest, and Takumi ate the delicious grapes they presented to him as he listened to them go on about how kind nature had been to them for the last few years. The rumbling in the earth last night, they pondered, seemed like an omen that things might take a turn for the worse.

But it hadn't done any damage to the village.

“All right. So maybe it's not a normal earthquake,” Takumi admitted to Hinata.

“Do you think maybe it has to do with—” Hinata made a vague _you know_ gesture “—the other place?”

“I hope not,” Takumi said. “Kamui and Aqua swore to us that they'd do what they could to fix the world that isn't this one. If something went wrong for them, then...”

Takumi lapsed into silence. _Then we might have accomplished nothing, and we might become trapped in a never-ending cycle of pointless war again._ And for all that their world was still imperfect, he was certain that possession would make it all much worse.

Suddenly he realized that if the other world chose prospering Hoshido to lead the next war, it would be King _Ryouma_ that they'd possess, Ryouma who would become like Garon, mad and cackling and willing to kill his own children—

It was a disturbing thought.

Hinoka came by. As if she had thought of the same thing, she said, “Let's spread out and check the Chasm before we head back. You can take the middle, by the main roads. We'll meet back at the western outpost by nightfall.”

The sun was in their eyes by the time they neared the mountains around the Chasm. The first thing Takumi noticed was that the half-constructed bridge—the bridge that had been under construction for so long, the bridge that he'd selfishly wanted to work out so that it wouldn't take a month's journey by sea to see Leon—had crumbled, leaving only a few sad supports on either side of the rift to mark that it was ever there.

“Wait,” Hinata said, “look there.”

In the rugged slopes of the mountains surrounding the Chasm, there was a muddy patch of color running down the side, smudged right through the square shapes of houses. After a moment, Takumi said aloud, “Is that a village?”

“I think it was,” Hinata replied quietly.

Takumi steered the kite into a careful descent to where the landslide had pounded the village.

There were a few villagers digging at soil and lifting beams in a sea of dirt and wood. As they descended, one left a wheelbarrow to approach Takumi, saying desperately, “A fumbly's rapt dare.”

“What?”

“A family's trapped there,” he repeated in his thick mountain accent. “They're still alive. We heard them.”

Takumi looked to Hinata.

“We don't have any way of contacting the others until it's dark,” Takumi realized aloud.

Without wasting any more time, they were soon alongside the six able-bodied villagers, scooping at the dirt, heaving at the fallen beams. As the sun dipped below the mountains across the Chasm, they moved a plank to find an arm.

“Yuna,” a villager breathed.

They heaved beams and reeds away from where the arm disappeared into the wreckage. They uncovered a woman's chest, and then her face, her eyes closed, a thin layer of dust making her skin look dark and gray. Her shoulder was still warm, but her chest was still.

If they had any training with the staff, they might have been able to do something. They didn't. By the time they found a healer it would be too late. She was going to die. As Takumi stood there, breathing deep, sweaty and dirty hands at his sides, he realized that he had to leave them. He had to fly back to meet the others at the western outpost and have them mobilize aid—for this village and likely many others—and then fly back to the capital to let them know that more help would be needed.

The villagers did not stop in their efforts to clear the rubble from the house. _Family_ , the man had said. There was a whole family trapped there. And likely many others, lost in the spill of soil that buried nearly the entire village.

And he had to leave them.

“I'm going to go get help,” he said as simply and clearly as he could. A middle-aged woman and a young man acknowledged this with a weary nod of their head. “I'm going to go. I'm going to send help.”

He climbed back onto the bird with Hinata. As they took off he told himself that there were few people in the world who could do what he was about to do, mobilize a country's resources to bring aid to this village. And yet, flying carefully through the darkening night sky, his sore hands still shook around the reins as he thought about how he could do nothing but watch her die.

* * *

Many of the scouts had seen the same thing in the mountains of the Chasm. When the squad returned to the palace, they urged King Ryouma to send more resources westward. They were also forced to report that the damage wasn't as extensive as they thought it would be, for a quake that they could feel in the capital. Takumi could see that his brother and Yukimura were visibly relieved at the news. Part of him didn't want them to be relieved. There were probably dozens of little mountain villages along the Chasm where hundreds of people had died. How could he be grateful that the earthquake hadn't ravaged Hoshido proper, that the earthquake wouldn't have any major impact on their economy, when he had stood there in the rubble and unburied a dying woman only half a day ago?

Takumi stayed in Shirasagi, signing orders to keep the rescue operation running and supplies flowing, while his sisters sped off to tend to the front lines. It was a little ironic, he thought, that his greater authority now meant that he needed to stay back in the castle to manage the crisis.

That was why he was present a week later when a group of wyverns landed without warning just outside the gates.

Takumi grabbed a bow on his way out of his room. Most of the army was away from the capital on relief efforts, Nohr was rife with chaos, and he had sent Hinata to go with his sisters. He wanted a bow with him when he met these unexpected visitors, even if it would be taken as a gesture of distrust.

He took stock of the situation at the window where, at the beginning of fall, he had watched the Nohrian dignitary pass through the gates. This time, the first figure to emerge onto the walkway was a pale and ethereal figure in white and blue.

_Aqua._

There was no way it was Aqua. But there was no way it could have been anyone else. And following her, as if proof that it must have been her, was the tall and grim king of Nohr himself. 

And then Leon with his head of golden hair passed through the gates.

Takumi lingered there just to take in the sight for a moment longer—watching Elise walk in under her own power, only needing to hold Elfie's hand—before he made for the stairway to meet them.

Ryouma was already there at the doorway to the palace, his arms crossed, the Raijin-tou sheathed at his side. The two of them acknowledged each other with a glance. Ryouma must've also felt on edge. Maybe it was his newborn son. Takumi waited to see how he would react, now that they knew who had come.

As Aqua approached, Ryouma smiled, uncrossed his arms, and called, “It's good to see you again.” 

“Ryouma, Takumi,” she said, giving them slight bows. “If only our reunion could be under happier circumstances.”

“Is this a sensitive matter?” Ryouma said. Aqua nodded. “Saizou, Kagerou, secure us a meeting room.”

Leon's dark, tired eyes drifted over Takumi, casually acknowledging him as he passed. He didn't even say hello.

Fine. Takumi didn't say hello, either.


	17. Fall in the East (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A formerly cut scene was re-added to this chapter on 2/26. Mild trigger warnings have been updated [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/266464.html).

“I am extremely sorry for the damage I have done by breaking through to this world. I know that it has caused loss of life in both of your countries. Please, forgive me.” Aqua tipped her head penitently from where she knelt at the table. “I feared a greater cost.”

“You mean the earthquake?” Takumi said to clarify. She gave a single melancholy nod.

“It would be decades before the gate opened again. By then, it could be too late. So I chose to come now, for the alignment between our worlds until winter comes is the best it will be for years.”

Cutting to the point, Ryouma asked, “Are we in immediate danger?”

Aqua shook her head.

“No. But left alone for years, decades—it could very well mean the loss of all we have gained. It could return the world to a course of destruction.”

She paused, and the room was silent, as if they were all trying to think of how to ask for clarification without invoking the curse and turning into water.

“I need to take the Holy Weapons back with me,” she said. “I will need you to deliver Raijin-tou, Siegfried, Fuujin-yumi,”—Takumi's throat clenched—“and Brynhildr with you to the Chasm, and help open the gate safely so that I can make my return. If you help send me off before snowfall, we may be able to avoid any further disaster.”

Takumi trained his eyes steadily on the wall above Aqua's head, trying not to give himself away. Marx threw a glance in his direction, then politely looked away. On his other side, Ryouma looked at him, as if giving Takumi a chance to admit to the problem himself.

Takumi sighed, looked down at the table, and muttered, “We don't know where the Fuujin-yumi is.”

There was a pause. Then Aqua said simply, “I see,” in that simple, neutral way of hers.

She was disappointed. His favorite older sister had just gotten back and he had already managed to disappoint her by losing a treasured heirloom in the brief time she'd been gone.

“It isn't Takumi's fault.”

They all looked to Elise, who sat at the end of the table looking tired and angry. He hadn't expected Elise to stick up for him. “It was lost when we were captured in Chevalier. We barely got out alive. If you want to know where the bow is, ask Claire.”

Takumi's fingertips flinched at the name. Elise had met Claire? Coming to think of it, he didn't know much about what had happened to Elise during that time at all.

In response to Aqua's look of confusion, Leon explained, “A Chevalier rebel. From what we understand, she orchestrated the rebellion, then fled before the city was taken.”

If Leon knew that Takumi had let her go, he showed no sign of it. And maybe that was for the best—maybe if he'd shot her, they would've lost their only lead on the bow. Maybe. 

He should've taken her prisoner. He'd failed in his responsibility to take her prisoner back then.

“I'll send out an order to redouble the search for her,” Marx said, breaking Takumi out of his trance. 

“I will spread the word in Hoshido as well,” Ryouma said. “Is that all that is required? The four Holy Weapons and those of us who wield them?”

“Yes,” Aqua said, “but it would be safer to bring as many as we can who are capable of using the Veins.”

“Then I'll summon Hinoka and Sakura as well.”

Aqua looked to the Nohrian side of the table, but was tactful enough not to ask after Camilla when the three siblings stayed silent.

Finally, she said, “That is all I have to tell you at this time.”

“Let's rest and make our preparations while we wait,” Ryouma said.

* * *

As they filed out into the hall, Takumi hung back to say to Elise, “Hey, thanks.”

She shrugged and said, “I hate how they act about that stuff.”

He nodded in agreement, but she still seemed a little cranky, so he let her be. 

Besides, he had someone else he needed to talk to. Takumi wove between Hinoka and Marx to make his way to the one who had been avoiding him for so long.

“Leon, wait.”

Leon was thoroughly disheveled, with wrinkles pressed into his pants from riding a wyvern through all the hours of the day. At the sound of Takumi's voice, he looked slightly over his shoulder, his eyes annoyed and underlined by discolored skin, and said, “Can this wait until after I've had a chance to rest?”

What did that mean, _can this wait_? What else had Takumi been doing all this time? “You've had three months,” Takumi said tersely.

“So you can wait one more day and the conversation will be better for both of us.”

 _Better for_ you, _you mean,_ Takumi thought to himself, bottling his retort behind tightly pressed lips. 

Leon paused, tilting his head as if trying to decide what to make of Takumi's silence.

“All right,” Takumi said finally. “When?”

“Sometime after I've had a good night of sleep,” Leon said. “Perhaps in the gazebo over the lake.” He studied Takumi's face for a moment longer before his expression softened, and he said, “You look like you're waiting to be disappointed.”

What kind of observation was that? How did Leon have the gall to say it while on the verge of letting him down? Takumi could feel his face making the most incredulous expression.

“Takumi, if I meant to simply dismiss you, it would have been easier to send a letter. Consider that,” Leon said, “and have some faith in me.”

Takumi remained incredulous, even as his heart started to pound with a rush of hope. “Tomorrow morning at the gazebo, you said,” Takumi echoed thickly.

“Yes.” Leon gave a brief smile before he turned around. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

It was becoming typical of Leon to offer hope that things would be all right, only to crush it shortly afterward. 

_Have some faith,_ Leon had said. He didn't seem to understand how difficult he had made it to believe in him anymore.

There was still work to be done, thousands of correspondences to be had over the aftereffects of the earthquake. Instead Takumi stood just outside of the palace, watching the servants hurrying about as they tried to find a safe place to lodge the Nohrians' carnivorous mounts. Though it seemed too early to be dark, the sun was beginning to set, casting long tired shadows behind them.

He supposed that he ought to be hurrying, too. But in that moment it seemed as if nothing he did would have mattered. An evening of working through ambassadors' letters would have made no difference in the endless queue of things that had to be done.

 _Maybe I'll catch up with Aqua,_ Takumi thought to himself. But when he asked after her, the servants pointed him to the shade of a tree where she sat with Elise. 

Takumi left them alone. Aqua had more important things on her mind.

Instead he secluded himself in his room, fearing he'd make a fool of himself if he remained anywhere else. He gazed out of the window, over the reddening trees that concealed the pathways of the garden from above. Some part of him didn't really want to meet Leon in the gazebo. They had been so happy the last time they were there. It seemed to him that he might never take pleasure in Leon's company again, and all that was left were fond memories to be soured one by one.

He thought about crying himself out so that he could go into their conversation dry and void of emotion. It seemed like a reasonable idea, but he just stood there, staring blankly at the colored canopy of the garden, feeling miserable and yet having no idea what he would be crying about.

It occurred to him that he could slide open the window and let himself fall through, striking the ground and letting every last disappointment leave this world with him. 

But then, he thought, there were too many guards around. They would spot him right away and rush him to the healers. All it would do is add to his problems the task of folding a thousand cranes with barely-moving hands.

No. Never mind.

* * *

He woke early in the morning thinking about his mother in the plaza, playing out in his mind how he could've shot the hooded stranger as soon as the sword flew to his hand. In his mind, he felled the swordsman with bolts of wind, and he and his siblings ran across the plaza to discover that it had been his father—

Takumi tossed the blankets aside.

His reflection in his bedroom mirror looked like a sleep-deprived mess. He combed through his hair twice, trying to make himself presentable. Once he had finished, his hair took an unattractive glossy sheen. As he worked in his hairpiece, he thought—as he often did—that the way the light shone off of its smoothness emphasized the lifeless color of his hair. When he was young he'd heard the court ladies gossiping that Ikona must have taken a lover from Nohr to end up with a child like him. He didn't even know where Nohr was at the time—he just knew from the way they spoke that no one should want anything to do with Nohr.

The rumors stopped, more or less, when the Fuujin-yumi chose him. For a while he could be smug about how they'd all been proven wrong about his heritage.

Then he lost the Fuujin-yumi. And—although it seemed like a trivial, petty thing to feel upset about—he discovered that people from Nohr had lovely hair, and his ugliness was all his own. 

At times it seemed like nothing good in his life would ever last.

He walked through the brisk air of morning to the gazebo by the pond. Then he sat on its floor, his back against its railing, his aching head in his hands, and waited. It was strangely chilly for this time of year—the pond was still barren, as it was still too early for the cranes. The gazebo was deathly quiet.

Leon was probably still asleep. Takumi was out here too early. And it was cold.

He wondered how long Leon would continue to sleep. 

Leon had insisted yesterday that he wasn't just turning him down. What did that mean? Despite everything, he couldn't help but think that perhaps Leon was going to tell him that he was in love with him, except that things would be complicated because he had a child to think about. That Leon would gently touch their foreheads together and kiss him on the nose, then the mouth, and he'd look so startled to be shoved up against the gazebo railing, his hair perfectly mussed as his shirt came off from over his head—

Takumi hit himself lightly on the forehead with his palm. It was equally likely that Leon was going to tell him off for hounding him like a pervert and blackmail him into keeping his distance for the rest of his days. Or something like that. It sounded crazy and uncharacteristic of Leon, even in Takumi's most paranoid imaginings, but he didn't know what to expect from Leon anymore.

He used to think that he knew Leon very well. Now he wasn't so sure.

His nose was beginning to run from the chill. It wouldn't do to have Leon show up and think that Takumi had been crying before he'd even gotten there. _I should wait until he's awake at least,_ he thought, searching through his pockets for a handkerchief as he rose.

In the end he returned to the palace, fetched some paperwork from his study, and took it with him to wait in the dining room. Either Leon or Zero was going to have to come fetch breakfast eventually. He retrieved a bowl of porridge for his own breakfast and tried to ease the anxiety of waiting by absorbing himself in his work.

According to reports, the earthquake had caused minor damage all across the nation. Their ambassador to Fuuma was concerned about the destabilization that could follow from a few more crumbled old buildings, a few more homeless neighborhoods in a region already tense from the losses of the war. She had sent a long list of recommendations, including increased military presence, the prompt delivery of supplies for relief, and so on and so forth. 

On the other hand, their ambassador to Kouga sent a letter full of concerns about continued Fuuma encroachment upon lands formally ceded to Kouga after the war. For years, they had been forced to give in to repeated requests from Fuuma to give their citizens more time to relocate, as if Fuuma were testing to see what parts of their postwar agreement they could evade. And now, while Kouga itself was winded by the earthquake, Fuuma claimed that they had urgent need of the crops raised by Fuuma's lingering farmers on Kouga's land and took the disaster as a pretense to evade the tithe they had agreed to. This ambassador recommended increased military presence in Fuuma to pressure them into turning over their stolen grain, as well as the prompt delivery of supplies for relief in Kouga, and so on and so forth.

Takumi was trying to think of how to tactfully tell both of them that Hoshido was stretched thin looking after its own people. There were entire clans buried along the western border. The forever-simmering tensions between Fuuma and New Kouga were not at the top of Hoshido's priorities one week into the disaster.

Someone sat down across from Takumi. He looked up to find Leon there with a bowl of porridge, clean and better rested than the day before, although his eyes still seemed to have a tired cast about them. 

“Good morning,” Leon said.

“Good morning,” Takumi said, as if he just happened to be doing work in the dining room. 

As he said it, Zero reached over Leon's shoulder with a spoon and helped himself to a bit of porridge while Leon gave no particular reaction. Was he tasting for poison? Here, in Shirasagi, while Leon was supposedly able to sniff out poison?

Takumi bit back his hurt and forced a quick smile. “Do you know what you're doing today?”

“I haven't forgotten about our meeting, if that's what you mean.” Leon folded the green onion from the top of his bowl into the depths of his porridge, then tucked a spoonful neatly into his mouth like true Nohrian royalty. After swallowing, he said, “I don't have any other commitments this morning. Marx told me to rest.”

“Yeah. That's a good idea,” Takumi said lamely. He looked down at the work in front of him and said, “I'm just going to go finish this letter. I need more paper. After that, do you want to meet at the gazebo?”

“Sure,” Leon said, doing a damned fine job of coming off as nonchalant. “I know where to find it.”

Takumi gathered up his papers and went back to his study. He sat down and looked at what he'd written. It was very stiff and slightly hostile. It would probably send the wrong message. He'd have to start over on the letter.

So he left it there and went to get his coat. 

He slowly fastened each button in front of his mirror. His reflection looked lethargic—sleepy eyes, small on his face, expression unfeeling and dull. To think that this face would be what Leon would see the whole time.

He finished buttoning his coat too quickly. He sat on his bed and told himself to count to two-hundred to give Leon time to finish eating breakfast. At some point the act of counting had ceased to bother him. It was strange to think about that fact, just before this confrontation—Takumi was increasingly certain that was what the meeting would be—with the person who had helped him overcome it.

He hit two-hundred. Unable to bear waiting any longer, he ambled down the stairs and meandered to the pond in the courtyard.

Leon still wasn't there yet. It was like he was practicing one of the best-known stratagems of war: Keep your opponent alert, waiting, fatigued, while you choose the time for your well-rested army to strike.

Takumi leaned his back against the railing of the gazebo. His head still hurt. Through the pounding he felt a premonition that he was on the verge of a horrible loss, and there would be nothing he could do to prevent it.

His head felt a little better with his eyes closed, so he kept them shut. His thoughts kept churning in overlapping waves: his mother dying in broad daylight in the middle of the capital, Leon scoffing at ancient _deviants_ , Aqua looking at him and saying _I see_ , Zero pinning him in a chariot and promising that he'd suffer...

Takumi heard footsteps against the wooden walkway and opened his eyes. He must've lost track of time. All of a sudden, Leon was here, appearing just beyond the gazebo's entrance.

Leon looked at him and stepped past the threshold. Suddenly they shared the same space. “It's chilly out,” he said as he stood against the wall opposite of Takumi.

“Yeah. The temperature was perfect just two days ago.”

They traded glances. Leon seemed a little uncertain of himself. At least Takumi wasn't the only one, yet it seemed unfair—Leon had created this situation in the first place. Where did he find the nerve to show up looking like he had been wronged?

“I suppose I'll start,” Leon said. Takumi crossed his arms and reminded himself to breathe. “First, I want to say that our relationship is valuable to me. No matter what form it takes, I don't want to lose you.”

Takumi nodded and muttered, “I feel the same way.”

Leon paused a bit, staring down at his feet as he prepared his words, then looked levelly at Takumi and said, “After you left, I thought a lot about where I wanted our relationship to go. I had two revelations. The first was that I liked the idea of being lovers with you. Actually, I suspect something had been there all along... although I remain uncertain about being physical.”

“Being physical,” Takumi echoed.

“I mean—it's just strange to think about. That's all.”

Takumi left his place by the railing, coming to Leon's side. To the question in Leon's eyes, Takumi said, “I know at first, I was terrified that I was thinking about it. Like I shouldn't think about it, much less enjoy it. So—it was hard when you acted—completely disgusted with me.”

“I wasn't disgusted,” Leon said. “At the time I was just afraid.”

“Afraid of me?”

“Not quite. Afraid of the power you had, perhaps.” Leon looked down at his feet and said, “That wasn't the best way to put it.”

Takumi didn't know what to make of what Leon had said. Instead he said, “Do you feel differently now?”

Leon closed his eyes for a moment, then looked away. “I don't know.”

How could Leon _not know_ whether he saw Takumi as some manner of demon intent on sodomizing him? Takumi didn't even know if he wanted to cry or give Leon a piece of his mind or what to hurl at him first. Trying to cool some of the hot pain in his chest, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out through his nose.

“It ties into the second revelation I had.”

Takumi opened his eyes, but did not look away from the ground. “What is it?” he said quietly.

“I don't know what could come of it. I mean, it could never leave closed doors. I can't imagine it developing beyond a few trysts.”

Feeling like he was controlling himself very well, Takumi said, “I see.”

His throat was slowly constricting on itself, cutting off all the words he suddenly wanted to throw at Leon. _I can't believe you. You're still disgusted with me. What do you want from me? Are you using me as someone to talk to when you don't have any other options? Have you ever cared about me? Have you always thought of me as an embarrassment?_

Distantly, Takumi was aware of Leon saying, “I wanted to tell you in person because I was afraid you'd take it the wrong way and we wouldn't be able to sort it out, if I'd sent a letter.”

“So I'm taking it the wrong way,” Takumi said hoarsely. “You're going to stand there and judge me as a disappointment for being hurt by what you said.”

Leon blinked, his expression turning neutral as he looked at Takumi. “What?”

“You still mean it,” Takumi said, feeling strangely lucid, like he'd finally found the words to describe how Leon had subtly, insidiously wronged him. “You've gone from saying I'm trying to violate you to saying I'm going to disgrace you, but it's still the same. You're still doing that thing you did that night.”

Leon sighed and began, “No. You're twisting my words. Didn't I just tell you—”

“Sure, you spin it like there's nothing to get angry about. And then you go on assuming that I'm just here to _get physical_ with you. I'm going to destroy your reputation. I need to calm down and do what you tell me to, to keep quiet and stay away from you—“ Takumi stepped away from the wall to stand directly in front of Leon, face to face. “How is that any different from what you said before?”

“How many times do I need to apologize for that? I made a mistake. I misjudged you while I was exhausted and anxious.” Leon crossed his arms and looked at Takumi with his eyebrows furrowed. “I don't think you're interested in forgiving me.”

“How can you expect me to forgive you when you're still doing it?”

“I'm trying to be honest about what I think. You seem to be intent on taking it as a personal insult.”

Takumi leaned forward, close enough to smell the porridge on Leon's breath, chin raised. “You're going to tell me you want my attention when it's convenient but otherwise I'm still just a disgusting liar and you don't want me in your life. Am I supposed to just accept that?”

“I'm telling you that I don't want to be killed,” Leon said tersely, turning to the side and slipping away from between Takumi and the wall. “And you forced me to explain myself to begin with. None of this has been easy for me—”

“Because what really matters is what's _easy for you_ ,” Takumi snapped.

“—to say. Don't yell at me! I'm doing this for you.”

“I'm sick of that! I've been holding back ever since the day before your wedding. I'm done. I'm not letting you do whatever you want to me, just because you're having a bad day. I've had a _shit_ day.”

Leon stood at the gazebo's entrance, turning to look sidelong at Takumi. “I didn't come out here to have a pissing contest—”

“A woman died right before my eyes, just like my mother, and then it turns out that I've doomed the world by losing my family's sacred heirloom. Obviously it doesn't mean anything to you.”

“—Like you were considerate when I wrote to you about having a child?”

“You're just going to call me out here, talk about how you're just so ashamed of me, disapprove when I don't take it well. Gods, you're so patronizing.”

“What, do you think I owe it to you to just—stand here while you insult me?”

“Do you think I owe it to you to cater to you because you're just so _complicated_?”

For a moment a dark expression flashed across Leon's eyes. Then he turned away and said as he stepped out onto the walkway, “I've given you your answer. I'm done.”

“Yeah, I guess there's nothing to be gained from _just listening to me_.” Leon did not slow down or turn around. “Fine. You're going to fucking abandon me. All those times I was there for you, and you're just going to walk away.” Part of him wanted to follow Leon until he would answer him, but with Leon's back toward him, it was like he had been granted permission to cry. His eyes were already hot with tears and he didn't trust himself to keep his composure for much longer. 

Takumi hid himself in the curved wall of the gazebo and sobbed soundlessly into the sleeve of his coat.

* * *

There was a real question of whether he and Leon would ever speak again.

Hinoka and Sakura soon returned and met with Aqua and Ryouma to learn of the situation. Every morning, they all met in a meeting to brief each other on their progress. There was little change in the situation, as it was too soon to hear back from Ryouma's spies, and Marx would only say that he was confident that his lead would come through.

Takumi prepared their supplies through a daze. On occasion he would catch sight of Leon in unexpected places—through the window, a glimpse of his golden hair on the sidelines while Ryouma and Marx sparred—and felt ill at ease in his own home, ambushed by the living reminder of everything he didn't want to think about.

One day, after avoiding Leon's eyes all through dinner, he fled the palace for some fresh air and found Aqua outside, walking away from the palace with her white robes flowing behind her.

“Where are you headed?” he called.

Aqua glanced behind her and turned to face him. “Takumi,” she greeted. “I thought I would take a walk through the gardens and see the spring. I have missed it.”

The word _missed_ struck something in him. His sister was here again, flesh and blood before him. Once, he had thought he would never see her again. “Can I come with you?”

Aqua visibly hesitated. The warm feeling receded, replaced by a thousand memories of the same conversation they'd had over and over as children. He could even hear her voice saying it in his memory— _Not now. I want to be alone._

“Never mind,” Takumi muttered.

“No,” Aqua said. “You can come.”

She smiled at him. He smiled back, following her along the path that led to the garden pond.

It was like she was letting him into some great secret. Whenever he had missed her as a child, the servants often reported that Aqua had been seen along the path leading to the spring. He would go there looking for her, but she would never be there. He always wondered where she went. He even had nightmares where he would find his whole family mysteriously missing and, crying, run to the pond in vain.

They came to the spring, at a part far from the gazebo, where there was a little wooden dock. It was left over from the days when his father would take his mother out on the water in a canoe, or so he was told. It was strange to be here again, the sight of the gazebo touching a spot in his chest that was still raw.

Aqua walked slowly up to the end of the dock, Takumi following. She sang as she did, her voice floating through the crisp open air—“ _Thoughts like foam / swirling on a balance— / the water thus told me: / the future opened by these hands._ ”

When she finished at the end of the verse, she stood at the end of the dock. Takumi did not interrupt as she gazed out over the pond. Aqua's song had once meant hope. Now it reminded him of everything that had not lasted. Divinity—peace—love.

Aqua turned around and said, “You have grown so much.”

Wondering if his appearance had changed so much in the last few years, Takumi self-consciously touched a hand to his jaw.

“You are very mature,” she clarified with a smile. Had he been immature when she had left? If he had matured, it hadn't done him any good. He quashed it all down with a shrug. “I wish I had been there to watch it happen.”

Takumi looked away and bit his lip, catching himself thinking, _I was right there for all those years, and you weren't watching then._

Aqua did not say anything else. The silence that followed felt like it exposed him for all of the whiny thoughts in his head.

Compelled to break that silence, Takumi said, “You know, sometimes when you told me you wanted to be alone, I'd track your steps and follow you. But I'd lose the trail at this pond, and you would be nowhere to be seen, as if you'd vanished. I always wondered how you did it.”

“You followed me?” 

“Only a couple of times,” he said in his defense, his heart sinking with the thought that his sister had come back for such a short time and he'd already managed to both disappoint and disturb her.

Aqua, quiet at first, looked out over the pond again. Facing away from him, she said, “I would come here to visit my home.”

“Your home?”

“My mother's world,” she said. “Through every spring laid a path to the other side, for those who call it home.” She reached out a hand, as if to grasp that connection.

Soon, she would go back to that world to remain there forever.

“So Hoshido never did become home to you?” Takumi said quietly.

Aqua looked at him sadly. “At times it felt much like a home. At times, that illusion would be shattered.”

 _I don't trust you,_ he remembered himself saying. _Nohr killed Father, and you're its princess._

It wasn't even the truth—he was just irked to see her so fond of Kamui when she'd always kept him at arm's length. Leon had been right about one thing: Anger had always kept him from thinking of anything beyond himself.

But perhaps the thought that really hurt was that he had curbed his anger so long and so well for the one person who had genuinely wronged him. He had given the best part of himself to Leon, and he no longer knew if he wanted to be close to him at all. And his sister, now, was lost to him.

Aqua gazed out over the pond for a moment longer. “What a lovely spring,” she said.

* * *

Nine days after Aqua came to Castle Shirasagi, a pair of wyverns were seen headed for the palace. Takumi, who had their supplies for the journey well sorted out, went to go see if Marx's mysterious lead had finally produced results. 

As he stepped outside to where the others were also gathered, he noticed that one had battered wings. Takumi thought to himself that he hadn't seen a revenant in use since the sun came out in Nohr. The last time he had seen anyone ride a revenant was when he had fought alongside Princess Camilla.

Leon could barely conceal his shock. Next to him, Elise said aloud, “Is that our sister?”

Next to them, Marx did not look surprised. And he did not give Elise a response. He folded his arms and watched the beasts descend outside of the castle gates.

Takumi glanced at Sakura. She glanced back, agreeing with her eyes that it seemed that Camilla was about to return, and she too did not know what it would mean for them.

It was not long before the gates opened, and they heard the familiar _tock, tock_ of Camilla's footsteps, powerful and cutting with her full weight against the floor. She wore a different set of armor now, plain and battle-scarred, and her flowing hair had been worked together in a braid behind her back—like she had been playing at being a different person. But it was her. No one who knew her could've missed the way she walked, the set of her lips in an unreadable smile. 

Behind her, two figures followed, one leading the other. In control was a short woman with an ever-cold face that long hair could not disguise. Following, shuffling with rope between her bare and bloody feet, was someone Takumi almost did not recognize in disarray—a woman with features bearing Nohr's divine blood.

Camilla came up to them, giving each of them a warm look as if they had not been parted for four years and nothing was amiss at all.

“My, it's been awhile, hasn't it?”


	18. Fall in the East (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next block will be two chapters. My previous estimate of March was probably too optimistic. I'm a little burnt out right now, so I'll be taking a brief reprieve to write a few other things. I'm excited for what's coming up, though, so I'll try to be back as soon as possible.
> 
> With thanks to [moonboots](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moonboots/) for emergency beta work. Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/263535.html) (beware spoilers).

With a brisk nod, Marx said, “It's good to see you again.”

Takumi thought that Elise would have jumped at Camilla in joy. But she was not the same as the Elise of several years ago, and she did not. She and Leon stood there numbly staring at Camilla like an apparition, the air between them rich with shock and hurt.

Then Sakura said, “Please let me tend to her wounds.”

The Nohrians looked at her, stunned by the gall she had to interrupt their reunion. Takumi cringed with secondhand embarrassment. Sakura, polite little Sakura, looked at Claire—who seemed as dumbfounded as the rest of them—then Velka, and said again, “Please let me tend to her. Prisoner or not, she is injured and needs to be treated immediately.”

Camilla looked over her shoulder at her captive nonchalantly. “Oh, you needn't trouble yourself over little Claire. She's such a strong girl.” She stepped back to Claire's side and tenderly brushed her hair aside from her face with one finger. Claire, with dirty hair and little to cover her bruised body, looked back with a neutral face that reminded Takumi of Leon whenever he was at a disadvantage. “That's why we've brought her here, you see. She wouldn't offer us a word unless we could bargain for it. Said she'd kill herself with her own magic if we tried to wring it from her.” Camilla smiled at Claire as if she found it charming.

“So please entrust her to us, just for a little while,” Sakura said—retorted. “Perhaps after that, we may try and see if she would guide us toward the Fuujin-yumi.”

If it hadn't been Sakura—if it had been Hinoka or Ryouma or someone else asking for this—Takumi would've exploded on them to remind them of how Claire had wasted no mercy on her own captives, save for poisoned kindness. But it was Sakura, who had been there with them. Takumi could only stare incredulously, wondering if Claire had somehow shown more sympathy to Sakura than him.

Marx looked at Ryouma, who in turn crossed his arms, seeming a little uncomfortable about having his hand forced by his youngest sister. “King Marx, if you would allow Hoshido to take custody of the fugitive until we have located our divine heirloom, we'd be much obliged.”

“I see no problem with this arrangement,” Marx said, “so long as you see to it that she does not escape.”

“We should have some of our own men on guard as well, for a viper like her,” said Leon, who seemed to have rediscovered his voice the moment he wanted to deliver his opinion on Hoshido's competence. “Let Zero watch her.”

“Agreed. Saizou, I place you in charge of her guard and interrogation. Accompany Sakura. Take the prisoner somewhere secure.”

Saizou and Zero both stepped forth from where they had made themselves inconspicuous by the palace, casting probing glances at each other. Sakura stepped forward, as if to take the rope from Velka, but Saizou hastily stepped forth with an, “If I may.” Claire's dark eyes carefully watched them both, wincing slightly as Saizou pulled her along a path leading away from the palace. Sakura's retainers followed them, and for a time no one spoke as they watched them go.

Takumi said to break the awkward silence, “Good job on finding her.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Camilla demurred. “Velka and I are the best in the world at hunting down those who don't want to be found.” She smiled and laid one arm across Velka's shoulders. Velka blushed and looked away, expression still stoic but for the blood in her cheeks.

“So you've been making your way as a bounty hunter,” Leon observed. “And you took up our brother's request to come help us?”

Something about the way he said it seemed a little—angry. Marx glanced at Leon quickly as if to gauge the situation. Camilla paused as if she'd felt it too, taking her arm back from Velka and moving toward her siblings.

“Yes,” she said with careful warmth. “I am so happy to see you again.”

“I missed you,” Elise said bluntly. She stepped carefully to Camilla's side to take her hand. “I wish you'd come see us more. Or at least write us letters.”

“But haven't you all grown up wonderfully?” Camilla replied, patting her loose curly hair. Elise just looked up at her. The rest of them held perfectly, silently still.

Camilla straightened her back and smiled at Elise, cupping her face in her hands, as if she could smile and stroke her way out of the mistake she'd made.

“Camilla,” Marx said, “it must have been a long journey. Perhaps the two of us could have some tea together to unwind while the others see to your accommodations.”

“Let's,” she said.

Ryouma caught Hinoka's and Takumi's eyes and made a slight gesture with his head. It was time to leave the siblings from Nohr to their business. As Camilla and Marx headed for his guest room, Ryouma, Hinoka, Takumi, and their retainers followed them into the palace and quietly dispersed, leaving their guests to dwell on the weight of their years in peace.

* * *

That night Takumi fantasized of interrogating Claire. He imagined going in with his sword and holding it to her throat, saying, _Oh, it's too late to regret anything. Don't bother with excuses now. I will never forgive you._ He'd graze the edge of the sword against her neck, just enough to draw blood and make her quiver in fear of death. Then he'd grab her by the hair and saw off her pretty curled locks until there was nothing left but a scraggly mess atop her head, leaving her looking like a pale animal with too-large ears. And if Sakura ever asked, he could tell her truthfully that all he did was give her a scare, and no treaty in the world would have condemned what he did.

The next morning, when he ran into Hinoka at breakfast, he said, “Has there been any news about the prisoner?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I hear we're headed for Fuuma.”

Takumi blinked, his spoon dropping into his soup. “She cracked? Already?”

“It sounds like King Marx got the captive to tell him. Apparently, she sold the bow at the black markets there. We should get ready to leave. Ryouma will probably give us the news soon.”

He wished that he could've been the one to crack Claire. That all of the rest of them would fail one by one, until at last even Zero had to let him have a try, and then he'd wring his bow back from her lips like he deserved. Claire had broken him. It would've been only right to have the chance to break her in return.

“... After he's done arguing with Queen Rinka,” Hinoka continued.

“Huh?”

“Rinka wants to come. Brother won't let her. I think it reminds him of...” Hinoka gestured with her chopsticks in the air. “You know.”

“Mother and father?”

“Yeah.”

“I can't blame him,” Takumi said. “Besides, there isn't any reason for Rinka to come.”

Hinoka raised her eyebrows at him and said, “Of course there is. It's a chance for some adventure away from the court. If I were kept locked up in court for a year, I'd be fighting Ryouma for the chance to get some air, too.”

“But Shinonome has just been born. They're not going to drag him along, are they? She's needed here.”

Hinoka gave him an annoyed look as she stuffed a dumpling into her mouth.

“I mean, it doesn't make sense for her to come.”

“That's up to Ryouma and Rinka to decide,” she said curtly through her food, raising the bowl to her mouth to catch the last of the broth.

“Well, I hope Shinonome doesn't grow up wondering if his mother cares about him.”

He was being more generous than Shinonome deserved, Takumi thought to himself as his picked some noodles out of his bowl, considering that the baby preferred Hinoka. 

Hinoka set her bowl down on the table and gave him a scrutinizing look. She pushed the bowl aside and said, “Takumi, what are you upset about?”

“I'm not upset. I'm just saying, it's important for a mother to be there for her children.”

“I just have this feeling that you're upset about something.”

“I told you,” Takumi repeated, locking eyes with her as he placidly brought a spoon of broth to his mouth, “I'm not upset.” He slurped the broth to punctuate his point.

Hinoka watched him eat, with a look on her face that said that she wasn't going to let it go. Takumi braced himself for whatever condescending prying thing she had to say next. Probably some remark like _You must be angry at Claire, but you shouldn't take it out on Rinka._

“Did something happen between you and Leon?”

Leon? Hinoka was asking him about _Leon_? How in the world had that happened?

“No,” he repeated, “I said I'm _not upset_. Why don't you ever listen to me when I tell you something?”

“I'm asking because I care. I'm just trying to look after you.”

It must have been too obvious that he and Leon were avoiding each other. Even Hinoka had noticed. 

“Well—why don't you 'look after' Sakura, then? She and Elise haven't played together since she got back. Shouldn't you be worried?”

“I talked to her about that months ago. Sakura came to me herself,” she informed him. “Anyway, this isn't about Sakura...”

“It is, actually,” he said, standing to leave with his half-unfinished bowl in his hands. “I'm the only one you treat this way. I'm an adult. I've been one for years, if you haven't noticed. I can take care of myself.”

As he left, she said, “Takumi,” simply, with exasperation.

* * *

Takumi saddled his golden kite, trying to ignore how clean Claire looked. Standing between Saizou and Zero, her hair was glossy, and she now wore a clean kimono fitting nicely upon her body.

“How lavish for a prisoner,” Leon remarked as he passed her by. Takumi wished he'd had the courage to have said it first.

“How pompous for a fratricide,” Claire replied without missing a beat.

Leon scoffed. Takumi wondered if there was any truth to that—if Leon had killed any of his siblings before. He wouldn't put it past him. Zero pretended to stretch as he knocked his bow against her arm. Narrowing her eyes at his unspoken threat, Claire did not say any more. Camilla, a wyvern's length away, smiled unreadably upon them all.

Not far from them, Hinata was saddling his own kite as Oboro looked on skeptically. At some point, Takumi had heard, Hinata learned to fly a mount in his own right, and he had convinced Oboro to ride double with him instead of Takumi. Now that he had permanently damaged his relationship with Oboro, Hinata finally had an opening to try to win her attention.

Across the courtyard, Rinka climbed aboard Hinoka's pegasus to ride double with her, reminding him that even his sister wouldn't take his side.

Well, good for them. Takumi supposed he would pass the daylong flight by himself, dwelling on all the ways he'd fucked up in the last few years.

* * *

They landed at the village of the Wind Clan just as the sun was beginning to slip under the horizon. Chief Fuuga and a surprisingly tall Tsukuyomi came out to greet them. Before the harsh cold of night fell, they were ushered in as guests by the families of the village, Ryouma and Marx lingering to arrange for their mounts and their prisoner.

Takumi and his retainers were guests to a family of four. Their hosts were called Kuninushi and Suseri, who were curious about what had brought Hoshidan royalty to spend a night in their village, but kind enough to let them get their rest after a day of travel. 

The couple provided them with a set of spare blankets across the round hut from where the two of them and their two boys slept curled up together. There was no privacy in the Wind Clan.

Silenced by the presence of strangers, Oboro and Hinata exchanged no more than the briefest of words with him before the two of them drifted off, weary from the day's travels. Takumi, laying on the side closer to the door, listened to the whistle of someone breathing from across the room. Hinata's back was finger lengths away from his arm, and moonlight peeped through the opening in the round roof to shine onto his face.

Takumi had never been good at sleeping in strange places, even under the best of circumstances. Laying here in this crowded hut, with some great unknown force threatening to harm the world, and the lingering sense that he was losing his most cherished relationship, Takumi knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Still, he closed his eyes, knowing from experience that it would be better to doze than to look restlessly about the room.

Hinata's heel bumped lightly against his calf, and Takumi moved his leg away. Hinata didn't seem to notice, evidently fast asleep. What must it be like, Takumi wondered, to fall asleep at will? Sleep, for him, was something that danced out of reach when he sought it and punished him with nightmares when it was finally within his grasp.

From an unprompted corner of his memory, he thought of how soundly he had slept the night Leon stayed in his room last fall. 

_It's never going to happen again._

A raw pang passed through his chest and he turned onto his side, crossing his arms over his body, holding himself and keeping back everything that threatened to burst free. Not here, not in this stranger's hut.

 _It's not too late,_ some part of his mind pleaded. _It's not over. Not yet._

 _I don't know what you want from this,_ said the Leon of his mind. _There is no future for us. Consider that._

 _Consider that._ When Takumi thought of a future for the two of them, all he could see were days spent together reading by lamplight, nights gentle and calm shared under one blanket, stretching intangibly across time as they grew old. Thinking about _governance_ and _duty_ and _family_ , he knew his vision was fantasy. And yet it felt so real.

Because it had been real. Because for a time that was how he and Leon had been together. All he wanted was to be a little closer, to possess and be possessed, to have each other as a refuge in this uncertain, disappointing world.

* * *

The sky was beginning to change color—faintly purple, catching the barest rays of early morning light. The night had passed. Takumi looked next to him where Hinata and Oboro were still sound asleep. They had been given leave to sleep past dawn, since it would take less than a full day's flight to reach Fuuma. There were still hours to pass.

Takumi gingerly extracted himself from the bedroll. As he was putting on his shoes by the doorway, Hinata rolled over and opened his eyes, looking at him for a moment. Takumi smiled and nodded, and Hinata fell back asleep. Sometimes he envied Hinata's carefree nature.

Quietly, he opened the door and slipped outside. The air was cold from the darkness of night, but it was fresh. He finally had room to breathe.

While he worked his hairpiece onto the back of his head, he took in the stark beauty of the slowly waking landscape. The little round houses of the Wind Clan's village looked like lonely guardians where they rose within the broad, vast desert.

Toward the rising sun, there were great craggy rock formations jutting into the air. The sun was visible now, piercingly bright where it peeked out from behind the stone, and Takumi blinked, holding up a hand to block it from his vision.

As he averted his eyes, he saw some odd patches along the ground where the ridged texture of the sand had gone flat, leading in a trail toward the sun. It made the hunter in him curious. Who else was awake at this hour?

Takumi stepped out onto the trail. Without the divine gusts of the Fuujin-yumi to lighten him, his feet sank into the sand, leaving misshapen dimples behind him. _It was someone with magic,_ he thought to himself as he stared at the smooth sand before him. _It might be Leon._

For all that he had avoided Leon, the trail he saw before him felt as if it had been laid before him by some unseen force, guiding Takumi to where Leon concealed himself with all his secrets.

Takumi felt for the Vein running through the ground. He hardened the sand before him and took the path.

(Or maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe Tsukuyomi had gotten up early to pick herbs.)

The trail wound through the sand, back and forth, as if its creator had been lost, or else wanted to leave any followers in confusion. But it was a naive attempt—easier to trace in the soft sands than the trail of a deer. Takumi followed it past a dune of sand.

Suddenly Leon was there, a tome open in his hand like he was ready to kill at once. Takumi threw his hands up before him and blurted, “It's just me.”

Leon's expression flickered for a moment. Then, coldly, he clamped the tome shut with one hand and said, “What do you want?” His eyes, Takumi noticed, betrayed him with a faint tinge of red.

“I just wondered who else was awake.”

“Well, you have your answer,” Leon said. The dune had been hollowed out on this side and hardened into a cavelike alcove. Leon sat down against the sand wall that had swaddled him away from sight, resting the tome—Brynhildr—to his right. “Now leave.”

Takumi thought about leaving. It was what Leon said he wanted. It was what he deserved. 

He looked at Leon, sitting nestled against the sand, his knees drawn up to his chest, his face turned away as if he could still hide his weakness. It didn't seem right to leave.

With great patience, Takumi sat next to him, Brynhildr keeping space between them. Leon stole a glance at Takumi and gave a huff. “You don't even want to be here.”

 _Maybe I'm putting that aside because I think you need me right now,_ Takumi thought. _Maybe I thought that was noble of me._ “Look, I'm trying to help.”

“Ah, yes. Takumi, Prince of the Light, always the righteous hero.” Leon's voice was positively acerbic. “I think it's time you admit that you enjoy seeing me weak.”

“What the hell, Leon.”

“You lash out like a child when you're angry, and then once you've wounded me you come playing at being my savior. Is that what you want with me?”

“ _No_ ,” Takumi said, stunned and offended. “No, I've only yelled at you—twice, maybe, in five years.”

“Our first meeting at the Chasm,” Leon said, raising one finger. “Our second meeting, at camp. Our third meeting, on the battlefield.” He raised a finger for each one.

“That was before we became friends.”

“Our two-year reunion, when I told you about Chevalier. Then the very next day, after dinner.” _I wasn't yelling at you that time,_ Takumi thought, but didn't nitpick. “Then the next time I came to see you, right after your wedding guest had his say—”

“Wait, when was that?”

“The day of King Ryouma's marriage. Don't tell me you don't remember—”

“I thought that night was really nice.”

“The fact remains that you snapped at me with the last words I wanted to hear.”

“Okay,” Takumi said, aware that he sounded defensive. “I'm sorry.”

“In Amusia, at the play,” Leon said, raising a second finger on his left hand to total seven. “The night before my wedding. After Elise—”

Takumi snapped, “I can't believe you'd count that as _me_ yelling at _you_. I opened up to you and you stabbed me in the back. You haven't even really apologized—”

“I've apologized twice,” Leon shot back, “but you only seem interested in using it to justify treating me however you wish.”

“I'm not justifying anything! I don't keep a list of offenses in my head just to prove that my best friend is some kind of horrible person!”

“How else could I make you acknowledge that you've attacked me constantly?”

“Half of those times weren't even attacks!” Takumi yelled. Leon looked at him like Takumi was proving his point right then and there, and Takumi hated it but not enough to make him keep it in any longer. “Half those times I was being self-effacing or—concerned or something, and you'd talk down to me while telling me to fuck off, and then _I'm_ the one who started it because you managed to get me to raise my voice?”

“Maybe,” Leon said in a low, icy voice, “I meant it when I said I wanted you to leave me alone.”

“ _Maybe_ I'm sick of how you pretend everything's my fault. Maybe I've honestly done my best for you”—Takumi could feel his voice start to yield and he hated it—“maybe I've tried harder for you than anyone else in my life and I'm pissed off that it wasn't enough, it's never going to be.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Takumi stared at a thorny shrub in the distance as his vision blurred. He could sense Leon looking at him.

“I don't have the strength left to comfort you, Takumi,” Leon finally said. “I think you should go.”

“I fucking loved you, Leon,” Takumi said, high and thin.

“Takumi—”

“I'm not saying it to manipulate you. I just need you to believe that for one goddamn moment.”

“Why?” Leon shot back.

“Because I need you to know what you're doing to me.”

“And how is that not manipulative?”

Takumi let out a frustrated growl and plunged his hands into his hair. “How can you accuse me of—of staying here to be insulted for my own personal gain? I'm trying to be supportive, I...”—a memory sprung to the surface, a confession Leon had once made—“Didn't you say it yourself? All you wanted was for someone to stay?”

Takumi looked at Leon and saw a hint of pain in the set of his eyes and lips. Of all the things he could've noticed, he found himself thinking that reddened eyes may have been the only thing that had ever made Leon look less beautiful.

Leon crossed his arms on top of his knees and rested his forehead upon them. He said, muffled into his robes, “That letter was a mistake.”

“Our relationship was a mistake,” Takumi echoed quietly. “Is that what you mean?”

“No.” 

Leon was quiet for a long moment after he said that. Takumi took the opportunity to drain his eyes against his sleeves. _If it isn't a mistake, then what is it? Why are you treating me like one?_ Takumi thought of a thousand things but didn't dare say any of them, wanting to know what Leon would say next.

“No,” Leon repeated. “I wonder if it gave you the wrong idea about me.”

His voice still low, Takumi said, “What do you mean?”

“It would explain why you don't believe me,” Leon said, surfacing from his arms. “I sent that letter in a terrible state of mind. I don't show weakness lightly. I don't think you understand that.”

“What don't I understand?” Takumi said. “You just keep accusing me instead of explaining anything.”

“I tried to explain it to you,” Leon said, uncurling one fist in the air. “I told you that I'd distanced myself that night because I was scared, and you took that opening to attack me.”

Takumi bit back a gush of _How dare you act like you were the victim—_ and took a moment to process what he had heard. At length, he said, “I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm not sorry that I got mad.”

Leon huffed and let his head fall against his knees again.

“What you did that night was one of the worst things you could've done to me,” Takumi continued. “I don't think you understand that.”

“Really?” Leon said, his voice sardonic. “It was the _worst_ thing?”

Leon looked at him—leered at him, and Takumi just barely controlled his volume as he snapped, “Don't you dare tell me it wasn't that bad. Don't act like you have some kind of right to hurt me.”

Leon narrowed his eyes and said, “Don't pretend to know what I'm thinking.” 

There was resentment rather than indignation in his voice. Sorely satisfied that he had been right, Takumi let his words sink in. Leon avoided his eyes, choosing instead to face the long shadows cast by the rising sun, his body still as a statue but for his breathing. At last he spoke, saying, “No. No, I don't.” He exhaled, closed his eyes, and tipped his head forward. “No. You did not deserve that, Takumi. You didn't deserve that, like I've said. I don't know how else to apologize. I...”

Leon opened his eyes again, reminding Takumi of the strange calm that seemed to overtake him before the harpsichord—when he had said, _I wouldn't be surprised if you left._

Now Leon said quietly, “I feel as if there is no way for us to proceed.”

“I've thought that too,” Takumi said. “I just didn't want to be right.”

Leon ran his hands over his forehead and through his hair, and Takumi looked away. He had repulsed so many people in his life—Aqua, Oboro. The people who supported him did so out of obligation, bound to him by blood and fealty. No one who had a choice in the matter had ever wanted him. It shouldn't have been surprising that Leon would turn out to be no different.

This time the tears overflowed and made his eyelashes stick together. Takumi mopped at his face with his sleeve.

“I don't want this to be over,” Takumi mumbled.

Leon's voice echoed in reply, “I feel like I will never have this again.”

“Yeah.” Takumi bit his lip as he looked at Leon. Leon looked back, his eyes half-lidded and sad.

“I don't know if I trust you anymore.”

Even as tears formed again in his eyes, Takumi said, knowing very well the truth of how he felt, “Me neither.”

Leon crossed his calves at the ankles and took Brynhildr from beside him to nestle against his chest. Takumi looked away. Leon had been wrong—he didn't enjoy seeing Leon looking weak. It made him wish Leon were as strong as he boasted so that Takumi wouldn't have to witness the proof of what he had done to him. It wasn't even fair. Leon had been the one to say it first.

“Do you want to know why I came out here?” Leon said quietly.

Takumi shrugged as he observed a spiny shrub starting to take on a purplish color as the sun rose. “If you want to tell me.”

The wind blew. The shrub was stout, thick, and did not sway as sand blew around it and through its hardened fingers, casting a long tangled shadow, dark and evil. It was such a horrible time of morning to be awake. His head felt tight and strained, yet he had no desire to sleep.

“Camilla came back.”

“Yeah.”

“After four years. Marx was in contact all this time. This whole time, he had been sending her letters. And he never told us.” There was a pause. Takumi wondered to himself why Leon felt like saying this now. It didn't seem like anything that would bring them closer again. “He says she didn't want to hear from us, said we don't understand her—Who is he to decide that? She didn't show up for him. She didn't give a damn about him either. The only reason she's turned up is because of the other world. Because there's a way to see _Kamui_ again.”

“You don't think she's here to help save the world?”

“No,” Leon said lowly with fierce conviction. “She did not come because she was needed. She came to be with her precious Kamui. That's all she's ever cared about.” It might have been, Takumi thought to himself, the first time he had seen something like true rage coming from Leon. “All those years I thought at least _she_ loved me, but even that was a lie.”

Leon was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, Takumi had a feeling he knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Weren't you pretending, too?”

“No,” Takumi said. “I meant everything.” 

Leon pressed his head against his knees again. “And what am I supposed to do with that? You mean everything. You won't forgive me.”

“ _You_ won't forgive _me_.”

“I wish I could, Takumi.” Then, softer, “I really wish I could.”

“Well, then, tell me what you want from me,” Takumi said, “because I'm starting to feel like everything I do is a fucking disappointment.”

Leon looked at him like it should have been obvious and said, “I told you. Don't yell at me.”

“I've been trying,” Takumi said, bringing his legs closer. “You know the night Elise— ...that night? It was right after you'd thrown me out of your room. I wasn't even sure you wanted to see me. I still decided to see if you needed me. And—I said you could trust me, and you said 'Can I?'” Takumi shook his head. “You stung me while I was hurting. And I just put up with it. For you. That's not the only time. I held back this summer, when you sent that letter about your family.”

“What about the other times?”

Takumi said, with more misery than anger, “Sometimes I lose my temper, okay?”

The expression on Leon's face was sad and earnest and said that he could not accept that explanation.

“Don't look at me like that. I know. I have a temper only a servant could endure. If it weren't for my birthright, no one would want anything to do with me. I know.” Takumi laid his head on his knees and noticed with a sad pang that he comforted himself in the same way Leon did. “I thought that if I tried, I could become mature, trustworthy, something, I don't know.” _How delusional did I have to be to think that?_ raced through his head, leaving in a whisper as he exhaled: “Stupid.”

When Leon said nothing, Takumi realized that he had been hoping that Leon would contradict him.

After a span of silence, he heard Leon shifting a little closer.

“Takumi,” he said, “I really don't think you're that flawed.”

“No, I am, and I need you to understand that. I'm not choosing to yell at you when you're hurt. I'm weak. I snap. I don't mean to. It's not something I do to hurt you.”

Takumi looked up at Leon, who angled his head in thought. “I could understand. Perhaps I don't know if I want to. You haven't exactly been understanding about me.”

“What is it you need me to understand?” The tears had stopped, but his eyes were still hot. “I feel like you've said something different every time I've asked for an explanation.”

Leon's fingers curled over the edges of his tome as he stared past his knees, at his feet. “I don't know if I can explain it any better.” Takumi didn't say anything, willing him to try. “I mean... for example... I know—rationally—that rumors of having a Hoshidan prince in my bed are unlikely to cause my assassination. It would take something like the collapse of the capital to make them redouble their efforts. But when I think about it, I...”

“You don't want to give them any ground?” Takumi offered.

Leon shook his head and bit his lip. “It's not that. It's... the idea of having that said about me.” He turned his gaze from his feet to Takumi, not quite meeting his eyes. “Did I ever tell you what my mother did, after Camilla saved my life?”

Takumi shook his head.

“She slapped me across the face and scolded me for jeopardizing her standing.”

“Gods.”

Leon shrugged half-heartedly. “That was what she was like. Disgrace is worse than death.” Leon lowered his eyes. “I wish I could stop believing it.”

“You... don't mean me, by 'disgrace'. Do you?”

“No. Just me.” For a moment he was still in thought. “When you wrote to me that your brother had said something similar to you, I was taken by the thought of how much we had in common. It was disappointing, realizing that I'd made an overestimation.”

“So you _are_ disappointed in me.”

“Well—it isn't your fault.” Leon stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. “But yes, I suppose I was.”

“Thanks for admitting it, at least,” Takumi muttered.

At that Leon met his eyes, gaze probing. “Haven't I disappointed you before?”

“No,” Takumi said on reflex.

“When I didn't take warmly to your confession, weren't you disappointed? Isn't that why you were furious?”

“I don't think I was furious at the time,” Takumi said, “but I take your point.” Takumi looked to the side, wishing that Leon would hear him, just once, when he explained what had happened that night. “Up until then, I thought that you'd accept me no matter what happened. You even said you loved me—and then a few minutes later that all went away? I think that will haunt me forever.”

“You were disappointed by my reaction,” Leon said. “You were so disappointed that even now, you can't find it in yourself to accept that I was overtaken by my greatest fear.”

“No, I get that now,” Takumi said. “You couldn't control yourself.”—Leon bit his lip at his phrasing.—“I get it. I just want you to know that I'm not what you think. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm not trying to take advantage of you. I'm not even as interested in—in lovemaking, as you make me out to be.”

Despite everything, Leon scoffed with amusement.

“I wasn't even going to say anything. I just—more than anything, spending time with you made me so happy. And I guess I wanted to know it meant as much to you. It would've been a dream come true if you also... but it was never the most important part. When it comes down to it, I—just feel like we were really close, and I cared a lot about you, and I thought you cared about me too.”

Takumi wiped at his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. Leon said nothing. Perhaps he had nothing to say.

He heard Leon set the tome down on his other side. Their arms brushed a little and Leon was at his side.

Leon tilted his head toward him, a few stray hairs brushing at his cheek. A little surprised, Takumi gingerly let his head fall in return. Their hair met with the lightest sound. Leon smelled damp and warm, his face so near that Takumi could feel the heat of his skin and the weight of his breath.

At last, Leon said, “I think I feel better.”

“Yeah,” Takumi murmured. “I guess that's what we needed.” The sand rubbed awkwardly against the back of his head where the hairpiece was. Takumi reached back and tugged it loose, placing it next to him, much like he did at night to go to bed.

“Do you think they're awake yet?” Leon wondered.

“Maybe,” Takumi said. He didn't want to move from where he was. He was so comfortable and so tired. He could have finally fallen asleep right there, laying against Leon in their shell of sand.

“Hmm.” Leon reached over with his far hand, turning inward, resting his hand on Takumi's forearm. Takumi tilted his head and he was right there. They breathed the same air in the slight space between them.

Leon gazed at him, eyes placid and dark in his unfocused vision.

Gently, Takumi brought his mouth down to where Leon's lips laid in wait. His lips were soft but for scratchy dryness along the bottom, and his mouth had little taste, clean with smooth teeth. Leon's hand moved to steady him by the shoulder as he opened his mouth, breathing warm breath into Takumi's lungs, his tongue pliant in surrender. Takumi raised his hands to hold Leon by his sides.

Leon flinched slightly at that. Takumi withdrew and looked at Leon carefully for any sign that he'd messed up.

Leon looked excited, Takumi thought, moments before Leon pressed forward and reclaimed his lips. Leon's teeth graced lightly across his bottom lip, and his other hand came up to brush against Takumi's jaw, his fingers passing across the sensitive skin behind his ear. Leon parted for one moment as they took a breath, and then he was there again, tender and adoring, fascinating and fascinated, his fingers running up into his hair, his tongue teasing just enough to leave him wanting.

And then all at once Leon pulled away, leaving him suddenly aware of the chill of the morning air where it passed over his face and the burning tightness in between his legs. He had never been so aroused in his life.

Leon seemed deep in thought as he looked at him. Takumi didn't dare make a move, uncertain of why Leon had taken to him with such passion and why he'd just stopped and how he might react if Takumi pushed him too far. So Takumi stayed still, his arousal mercifully hidden with the way he was sitting, his hands lightly holding Leon around his waist, lingering there like a plea for him to stay.

“I suppose that's where we are now,” Leon finally said, letting his forehead fall onto Takumi's shoulder.

 _Leon wants me!_ Takumi couldn't help but break out into what he was certain was the dumbest smile.

Leon gave a contented sigh. “Unbelievable. What an unbelievable couple of hours.”

Takumi wrapped his arms around Leon's, hands meeting across his back, and agreed, “I had no idea that was going to happen.” He rested his cheek against Leon's golden hair and murmured, “I was afraid it would be the end.”

Leon made a muffled sound of agreement. He shifted a bit, and Takumi released him for a moment so he could make himself comfortable—his head against Takumi's shoulder, his back against the wall. When he was settled, Takumi laid his forearm over Leon's, pressing their hands together.

“Where do we go from here?” Leon murmured.

“I don't know,” Takumi murmured back. “Can't we go back to how things were before? But with kissing?”

“Like before, but with kissing,” Leon repeated, cracking a grin. “Very well.” His side was warm, his hand bony and smooth. The weight of Leon's body against his own made him feel as if some great trust had been placed in him to be constant, to not let him fall. They laid there together as the sun rose and warmed the air.

Takumi's legs were beginning to grow numb when Leon yawned and shifted. He lifted his head, gazing at Takumi fondly. Then he said, “We should clean up before we go back.”

Before Takumi had the chance to ask what that meant, Leon took out a small mirror and a little case of cream-colored paint from his satchel, like he had thought the whole thing through when he'd come out this morning to cry.

He rested his chin on Leon's shoulder. Takumi didn't want them to know he'd cried either. Yet for some reason it made him a little sad to watch Leon erase every sign.

* * *

At times, during their flight, Takumi flew close to the wyvern Leon and Zero shared, catching his eye and shooting him a smile. In return, Leon would spare him brief glances and small nods of acknowledgment. 

Zero stared at him. Takumi gave him an especially radiant grin before spurring his mount to overtake theirs.

In the afternoon, they landed by a stream to take a break. Takumi kept an eye on Leon, wishing for a chance to continue what they had started that morning, but Zero was still stubbornly shadowing him.

Instead, while he was loitering by his mount looking quite shiftless, Sakura came up to him and said, “Brother, could I have just a moment of your time?”

“Sure,” Takumi said, stealing one last glance at Leon.

He walked with Sakura to the shade of a tree a little ways away from the rest of them, Sakura nervously wringing her hands all the while. Takumi wondered if the matter of Claire and Elise and all the rest of it had been weighing on her. She was a worrier beneath her image of saintly perfection.

“I... I was hoping,” Sakura muttered while twisting from side to side, “you might have some advice for me, on how to approach a boy.”

Caught off guard, Takumi blurted casually, “Why would I know how to approach a boy?”

Sakura looked at him oddly. “Because you are a man.”

“Right.” Takumi couldn't believe himself. “Uh, it depends on what kind of guy he is.”

“Um. Well. He's about my age, and he likes to travel. He likes seeing new things, and learning, and sharing all of that with other people. He's very proud, but also very sensitive, although he doesn't like to admit it.”

Takumi thought back to who they'd seen over the last few days and guessed, “Tsukuyomi?”

Sakura covered her face with her hands and gave a little scandalized whine. “Brother, not so loud!”

Takumi took a moment to let the sight of his embarrassed little sister sink in. For years she had negotiated with all the rulers east of the Chasm. When they had all gone through Chevalier, she was the only one who had come through unbowed. And here she was, squirming like a girl over some Wind Clan show-off.

“I guess he seems... honest,” Takumi said lamely.

“He _is_ ,” Sakura replied fiercely. “He is so sweet, and good to his father, and he respects culture so much. He was telling me about how he went to visit the Earth Clan after the war. They're all the way on the other side of the Chasm and he walked there on foot. He stayed there for a month, learning their language and exchanging botanical knowledge and listening to everything they had to say about the Nohrian occupation. He's been writing a book about it. And the chief told me about how he'd always done that, he would go out and find things, and bring them home to study them...”

Takumi interrupted, “He introduced you to his father? It sounds like he's already trying to court you.”

“Do you really think so?” Sakura said, staring down at her feet with her arms crossed and a silly smile on her face. “I suspected that, but I don't know. I thought I might be seeing what I wanted to see. I, I don't know what to do. What should I do?”

“Let him court you? I mean, if you like him...”

“But I won't be able to see him for months,” Sakura sighed. “He's going to sail over to explore the eastern islands. And I have work to do here.”

“You could write him letters,” Takumi said, wondering if Sakura knew where that had come from, that he had spoken with what little experience he had. “If he likes travel, he's going to be away a lot. If you want to court him, that might be something you'll have to accept.”

Takumi glanced toward the clearing. Leon and Zero seemed immersed in tense conversation. He wondered, for a moment, if he'd made a mistake even in gloating at Zero, if he had already broken the trust Leon had placed in him.

“Yes,” Sakura said, “I think you're right. Thank you, Brother.”

Sakura stood there so sweetly, adoring him, admiring him, trusting him with her teenage secrets. The words were out of his mouth before he had thought them through: “By the way, Sakura—”

She looked up in attention. It was too late to take it back. 

It wasn't just Leon's secret to keep. It was a part of himself.

“There's something I should tell you.”


	19. Autumn in the East (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, I realized that the end of this chapter is a perfectly fine place to leave off. So is the end of the next chapter. I said I'd prepare a block and do weekly postings, but I think it's not necessary to make you all wait. I'll post 19, 20, and 21 individually as I finish them. I think 22 to the end probably still needs to be held as a block, but we'll see when we get there.
> 
> Shout-out to everyone who's joined this wild ride since the NoA release. Thanks for all your loving comments--it's really great and helps motivate me on rainy days. ~~Regarding NoA names, I think eventually when I finish editing this whole entire fic, I might post a mirror with NoA names to FFN or someplace, since fandom seems fairly understanding about the characterization nuances that changed in localization and I think it may just be easier on people to read the NoA names.~~ (Update: Sorry, too demotivated.)
> 
> Anyway, here's the chapter. Thanks to traincat for the principal beta and moonboots for some help.
> 
> Mild cw [here](http://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/268326.html) (beware spoilers).

“You think I'll get in the way, is that it!?” Elise screamed, her face red and ugly.

“We're going to investigate illegal trade. In the most hostile place east of the Chasm. This isn't fun and games.” Leon, arms crossed behind his back, didn't budge an inch.

“If you don't want me around, why didn't you just let me die!”

“Elise,” Leon sighed. 

“Don't act like I'm being dramatic! _You_ made me this way! You don't get to turn me into a cripple then leave me behind!”

“If I hadn't saved your life, you would be dead.”

“Maybe that's what I want! _You're_ the one who wants me alive!” Elise stormed back toward her guest room, whirled back, and screamed, “I can't stand the idea of being with you anyway!” before slamming the door closed, the sliding door recoiling slightly on its rails.

For a moment no one on the outside moved. They watched as the door was pulled shut again. Leon's shoulders moved incrementally as he took a deep breath.

Then he turned back to the rest of them where they gawked in the hall, and said, “I apologize for that.”

* * *

Aqua offered to stay behind to keep Elise company, and so the two of them—as well as their prisoner, with Kagerou to guard her—stayed behind in Duke Ashura's estate while the rest of them flew out to where high-end black market trade was said to take place.

“Awfully nice for a black market in a crumbling nation,” Leon said bitterly.

“This is the richest part of Fuuma,” Takumi told him. “There are parts of Chevalier that are just as nice if you're going to pick and choose.”

Leon shrugged and looked away. He could be so sour about eastern wealth when he was in a mood, Takumi thought to himself, even though wealth wasn't what weighed on his mind.

“She'll forgive you eventually,” Takumi said.

“I'd rather not talk about it,” Leon said. He gazed at the entrance of the antiques shop where Ryouma and Marx had entered some time ago. There were a pair of guards at the entrance, looking well-trained and stern. “So, there's something I've been wondering.”

“Yeah?” Takumi said indulgently.

“How is it that a prominent noble of Fuuma would dare to keep a sacred Hoshidan heirloom?”

Takumi sighed, saying, “Well, it's Fuuma. Decades ago, Father tried to talk out of their expansionism, but they just turned our envoys away until they finally killed one of them.”

Leon's face all but said _And you didn't fight back?_

Silently thanking him for not saying it, Takumi added, “Our father was extremely cautious about attacking anyone. I heard his own grandfather—our great-grandfather, King Kikubana—turned militant near the end of his life, when our father was young, and it left an impression on him.”

“King Kikubana, Ravager of Esztergom?”

“What?”

“Esztergom, the former capital of Nohr,” Leon said. “It made a prosperous capital for about two hundred years, thanks to its position at the crossroads of trade—until King Kikubana burned it to the ground. After that, the capital was moved to Vindam on the basis of its defensive advantages.”

“Oh,” Takumi said, hoping Leon didn't resent him for it. “I guess so.”

“You don't know about the sack of Esztergom?”

“Of course I've studied the siege of Esztergom. It just—sounded for a moment like you were talking about something else, that's all.”

Leon looked a little skeptical, but didn't press the issue.

“Anyway, because of all of that, Father was hesitant to interfere in the affairs of other nations. He didn't have the advantage of hindsight like us.”

“Fair enough.”

At that moment, Marx and Ryouma emerged from the shop, looking no happier than when they had entered.

“No luck?” Takumi called.

“We should turn to our ambassadors and see what they suggest,” Ryouma said. “The stakes are too high. None of the dealers will speak, and we don't have the time to earn their trust.”

“Zero and Saizou might still find a lead,” Leon said. At that, Saizou appeared next to Ryouma, shaking his head. “Well, Zero might,” he amended. “I'd like to wait here for his return.”

“Yeah, I'd rather stay too,” Rinka said. “I'll pass on sitting around arguing with officials.” She and Ryouma exchanged a terse glance. Beside them, Hinoka crossed her arms, biting her lip as she looked at Takumi, as if pleading for him to make it easier for her to pick a side.

“Brother,” Takumi said, “Lord Ikazuchi sounded quite upset in the last letter he sent. I think you may have more success taking only the most capable negotiators with you.” Takumi glanced at Sakura, who smiled nervously.

Ryouma crossed his arms like he always did when he was feeling stubborn. Marx, perhaps not knowing that he was risking Ryouma's wrath, said, “If it is sensible to continue investigating here, then Prince Takumi's suggestion seems best.”

“Fine,” Ryouma said a bit shortly. “It wouldn't be safe to leave only some of you behind. We'll take Sakura and our retainers to the regional embassy, and the rest of you will stay. Are we agreed?”

They nodded quietly to Ryouma's pronouncement, and in short order, Ryouma, Marx, Sakura, and their retainers departed for the stables where they had left their mounts.

“My, what's with all the fuss?”

Camilla emerged from a shop with Velka behind her, smiling placidly as if there was no rush to find the Fuujin-yumi. In the corner of his eye, Takumi saw Leon look away.

“We're going to keep searching,” Rinka announced, turning toward the next shop with a hand on her club.

While Rinka had their attention, Leon tapped on Takumi's arm. “Investigate this shop with me,” he said quietly.

Takumi gestured for his retainers to wait outside and followed him into the nearby shop with pastries on display. He had no illusions that they would find his bow in a sweets shop, but he knew how strongly Leon felt about his sister.

“Welcome,” the baker called out from behind her counter.

Takumi called back, “We're just taking a look,” while Leon nodded along. They turned to face a rack of candied fruits, pots of dried plums and grapes and cranberries lining the wall. 

Leon's dark eyes gave no hint of whatever thoughts had driven him to avoid standing in the same street as his once-beloved sister. Instead, he gestured at several whole dried fruits that hung from a rod and asked Takumi, “What fruit are these?”

“Persimmons. When they're dried whole like that, they end up soft and sweet. They're really good, if you want to give them a try.”

Leon made an indifferent sound. He glanced out of the window to where Camilla and Velka took their time picking out their next target.

_You should talk to her before she goes_ , Takumi thought. But surely Leon knew that. Instead of saying anything, Takumi laid a hand on his shoulder. 

As if snapping out of a trance, Leon glanced at Takumi. Then he slipped away from his hand as he went to examine the baked goods on the other side of the shop. Slightly disappointed, Takumi followed behind him.

“Where do you suppose the bow is?” Leon said conversationally to the sweet rolls.

“I have no idea,” Takumi said. “As you may recall, it was taken from me and I haven't seen it in years.”

“Well—you must have thought about it? I was wondering if you might have some intuition about where it's been taken.”

Takumi sighed and bit his lip as he stared down the sweet bean buns. “I've had nightmares about it, I guess. Usually the Fuujin-yumi would be at the bottom of the sea, or boiling in a volcano. Somewhere like that, out of reach.” It felt a bit silly to say it out loud. “None of it was realistic. I wouldn't say any of it felt like a premonition.”

Leon nodded along in thought.

“But if I had to guess based on what I know about Fuuma,” Takumi said, “it's probably in some asshole's cellar.”

“A collector's trophy.”

“An heirloom of the royal family, all to themselves.” Takumi swallowed, thinking of how he had lost a part of himself, and all this time someone had kept part of his soul as a _trophy_ —“Sorry. I don't really want to think about this.”

Sympathetically, Leon said, “I know that if Brynhildr were taken from me, I would probably—”

All at once they noticed Zero stretching right outside the sweets shop, the contours of his chest showing through his form-fitting shirt as he arced his back in a showy, deliberate manner.

As Takumi stared, Leon said simply, “It looks like Zero's back.”

They emerged from the shop to where Zero was waiting for his master. Oboro and Hinata looked slightly embarrassed to be standing next to him. Down the street, Hinoka and Rinka noticed Zero's return as well and started walking back.

All business, Leon said, “Have you found a lead?”

Still stretching like a cat, Zero gave a crooked smile and peered at Leon through his eyelashes. “Oh, I was out taking it hard and rough while you and your partner were having a taste of the local flavor. Well, someone murmured in my ear that it won't be long before the bow finds itself in the arms of another man. I gave him a quick favor and he told me who that man was.”

Takumi was accustomed to Zero's foul mouth, but there was something strange about the scene before him. Hadn't Zero always behaved himself in front of Leon? Wasn't that how he had gotten away with tormenting Takumi all these years?

Leon narrowed his eyes. Calmly, he said, “And who is that?”

“Ah, the look in your eyes, aflame while your words run so cold. Is it all business for you, milord? You want your humble servant to put out? Would you have me for your pleasure alone?”

For a moment it seemed as if all of them were watching, silent, trying to make sense of the defiance they had witnessed.

Leon made a quick motion with one hand and with a glint of light, Zero was blown back, stumbling several steps to regain his balance. Aura dissipated from around Brynhildr in the satchel at Leon's side as Zero resentfully brushed the back of his hand against his jaw. _Finally_ , Takumi thought, _the punishment he deserves._

“Do not embarrass me, Zero,” Leon said, eyes hard. “Where is the bow?”

Zero took his hand away from his mouth and nonchalantly observed a rusty smudge of blood against his skin. 

Finally, he said, “His name's Shingen.” And then he slipped away into an alley.

Leon pressed his lips together.

If the situation were less urgent, Takumi would have given Leon a moment to recover. But knowing what he did, Takumi said, “We need to go right now. Lord Shingen keeps an estate like a fortress down by the coast—”

“—By the coast?” Leon echoed.

“He controls a third of Fuuma's cargo ships,” Takumi said. “So if he's been tipped off—”

“Right. We need to act quickly.” Leon shot a vexed glance in the direction where Zero had gone, saying nothing.

“The embassy is in the opposite direction. We should send a messenger to Ryouma asking him to join us when he can,” Hinoka said. “If we go ourselves it might be too late, but they should know what we've found.”

Takumi nodded, waiting for Hinoka to volunteer.

“We'll pay a runner,” Rinka cut in. “We need all the fighters we can get.”

“Actually, I was hoping it might not come to a fight,” Hinoka said. To their skeptical expressions, she defended, “We can't just attack him in his home, claiming we heard a rumor he might have our regalia.”

“You have a point,” Leon said. “Let's discuss it on our way over. We don't have time to lose.”

They all nodded at that: Leon, Rinka, Hinoka with her retainers behind her, and Hinata and Oboro. Rinka and Hinoka turned around and began heading toward the stables at once without asking after Camilla, perhaps trusting that the Nohrian would look after his own. Leon hesitated.

“I'll go tell Princess Camilla,” Takumi said to him. Leon glanced at him, face unreadable. Takumi chose to believe he meant _thank you_.

* * *

Deep down, Takumi knew that Hinoka was right. As they flew over Lord Shingen's seaside estate, he saw his heroic delusions for what they were. The manor looked so peaceful in the midday sun, made of white stone with rounded domes in southeastern style, with a pretty white stone wall around it and only a few cursory guards milling about in the usual places. Ambassador Hibiki had written of the signs that he had a considerable military force behind him, and that had seemed to justify a thing or two in Takumi's mind. But now that they saw it with their own two eyes, it was clear: This was a citizen's home.

They briefed the nearby seamen that no one would be permitted to set sail for the rest of the day

“I can't imagine we look like we came to talk,” Hinoka mused as she tied her pegasus to a tree. They had prepared for the worst that morning by donning armor under their loose cloaks. After all, Chevalier was still fresh on their minds. And now fate had seen it fit to lead them straight into a hostile fortress.

“I don't think they'd talk to us anyway,” Takumi muttered bitterly.

Rinka, Queen of Hoshido and the highest ranked member of their delegation, led their group up to the gates. The guards eyed them cautiously as she crossed her arms across her barely covered chest and announced, “I'm Rinka, Queen of Hoshido. I want an audience with your lord.”

The guards exchanged glances and looked at her with thinly veiled skepticism.

Hinoka settled the matter by stomping her foot down upon the ground, summoning a gust of wind that pushed the guards back against the wall. “We are no imposters,” she said. “Summon him at once.”

“At once,” the shorter guard repeated with a bow before scurrying past the gates.

Leon muttered to Takumi quietly, “Your ambassador seems to be correct.”

Takumi nodded back. The courtyard was larger than it seemed from the air, and the landscaping was void of tall elements like hedges and trees, making it difficult for anyone to slip between the manse and the gates. There was likely a tunnel somewhere underneath for when the master of the house needed to escape—there was no lord of Fuuma who didn't make such precautions. From what they could already see, the layout stacked the odds against those unfamiliar with the estate.

“I'd hate to walk in there,” Takumi muttered back, “but that's exactly what he's going to make us do.”

The guard returned with a well-dressed manservant bearing a polite smile. He bowed and said, “Your Highnesses. Lord Shingen welcomes you. Please, come in.”

Leon and Takumi glanced at each other. It was an ambush waiting to happen. Yet with the rest of their group already obligingly taking up their hospitality, it seemed they had little choice in the matter.

Takumi kept an eye out as they walked toward the front door. It was either promising or damning that Lord Shingen hadn't run. In the best case scenario, Lord Shingen would hand over the bow for a few small bribes in order to save face before the largest nation in the east. 

That estimation felt optimistic verging on stupid, though Takumi couldn't explain why. Likely it was the influence of Chevalier.

The front door led to a foyer in the eastern style. The manservant smiled slyly and did not ask them to change into slippers. He led them to the right down a side hall that plunged deep into the heart of the mansion, finally bringing them to a fine room where a dark-haired man waited for them at the head of an ornamented table, large enough for a party of six and small enough to lend a sense of friendliness to the gathering. 

Takumi hated Lord Shingen on sight. There was something too perfect about him, a coat of politician's polish over everything from his choice in décor to the way he smiled and rose from his seat.

Lord Shingen came to meet them by the door, clasping his hands together and bowing to them. “Greetings. Queen Rinka. Prince Takumi. Princess Hinoka.” They bowed slightly in return. His dark eyes roamed over Leon and Camilla, and he added, “And Prince Leon of Nohr as well? What a surprise!” Leon returned his smile—as did Camilla, though Shingen might not have noticed. “Please, make yourselves welcome. Nobushige, see if you can find a chair for our western guest.”

Takumi glanced at Camilla, but she did not correct him, so Takumi let her remain an anonymous soldier. She stepped back to the wall discreetly along with the other retainers as the other members of royalty settled in around the table. Takumi shared a side with Leon—who sat upon the rug without complaint while the servant had yet to return—as Queen Rinka took the seat opposite of their host.

Lucky for him that Rinka was there. Takumi hated the idea of trying to negotiate with someone like Lord Shingen—utterly a politician—when the stakes were so high and personal.

“So,” Rinka said, “we heard you have the Fuujin-yumi.”

Or maybe it was terrible luck that Rinka had come along. Leon and Takumi exchanged a glance to the effect of _Who starts off a meeting with a wild accusation!?_

“Ah, I did acquire a bow purported to be the one,” Lord Shingen said, “thinking that I ought to see to its return, as a humble servant of the realm. But with no announcement from the palace of the loss of the Fuujin-yumi, I thought that perhaps I had spent my coin on a forgery. Frankly, I was too embarrassed to come forth.”

Shingen gave a sheepish smile. His manservant discreetly entered the room with a small chair, bringing it behind Leon, who sat obligingly.

Distracted by the chair, Takumi missed the chance to say something before Rinka replied, “No shame in it. Real or fake, we'd like to see the bow and determine that for ourselves.”

“Should it be real,” Shingen said, “I would like to see it returned to rightful hands, of course.”

He paused meaningfully. Takumi could tell from the way Rinka gave a moment to think through her response that even she could tell what he meant—but all she said was, “Well, good,” as if refusing to play along.

“Yet, I owe a duty to my clan. I could not desert my people by failing to bargain on their behalf.”

Takumi mentally congratulated Shingen for devising the most beautiful way to phrase _We want something in return_ that he'd ever heard.

“We can pay you what you spent on the bow.”

Lord Shingen pressed his fingers together thoughtfully. “Well—in a manner of speaking, the Fuujin-yumi is priceless. Wouldn't you agree?”

“Get to the point,” Rinka said. The muscles of her arms stood out as she crossed her arms.

“Just as you wish to reclaim the bow that is rightfully yours, we only wish to reclaim our own land. The loss of the Sindhu river plains was a great blow to our nation's food supply. Now, any disaster—such as the earthquake of last month—brings the danger of famine to our people.”

“So you want to change the terms of the Southern Revitalization Treaty.”

Takumi glanced at Leon, wondering if he knew enough about the situation to follow. Leon didn't seem to be fully paying attention, his eyes scanning the room while his head stayed deceptively still.

Meeting her hostile tone with nothing but gentle calmness, Lord Shingen replied, “Understand that the Sindhu was always part of Fuuma. Our ancestors from the sea paddled through her gentle currents and found the fertile soil that she fed. We ask for nothing but for the return of our motherland.” Takumi wondered, for a moment, if Shingen's interest was genuinely patriotic, or if there could be profit in it for his sea-based trade.

Rinka narrowed her eyes suspiciously and glanced to Hinoka and Takumi, as if asking them if she was being fed complete bullshit.

“While that may be true,” Takumi said tactfully, “the people of Kouga could make the same claim. Fuuma's control of the Sindhu was maintained across the centuries through military might. With the Saraswati still poisoned from the tactics employed during previous wars”—Takumi met Lord Shingen's eyes—“the decision was made to grant Kouga the Sindhu so that it would have access to clean water.”

Shingen held his gaze. “Is that to say you would not consider letting the river change hands? Kouga could still have access to its waters without complete control over the territory.”

“Look, we're not trading a river for the bow,” Rinka said flatly.

“You needn't make a hurried decision.” Shingen took out two pipes from inside his jacket and a small paper packet, opening it and shaking half its contents into either pipe. He offered one to Rinka, who kept her arms crossed in refusal. “Well, that is a shame,” he said as his manservant came with a flame on a match. Shingen let him light his pipe and brought the spout to his mouth.

“We can compensate generously in gold,” Takumi said in the silence that Rinka left. “That is all we can offer you. That, and amnesty for keeping a royal heirloom hidden for two years.”

Lord Shingen took a deep draw on his pipe. He tilted his head back and blew one steady plume of smoke into the air.

All of a sudden, Leon made a quick movement next to him and Takumi heard the screech of a chair's legs as he was shoved to the side—then a dart embedding itself into the table in front of him—and then he saw a man emerge from nowhere behind Hinoka, and barely had time to shout, “Hinoka—” before Hinoka had sensed it herself and jumped to her feet with her naginata drawn.

“Takumi, _shoot him_ ,” Leon shouted urgently. 

Takumi's first thought was Shingen, but the lord had vanished from the head of the table, and in the next moment he heard several more wooden thuds and realized that Leon was desperately shielding both of them from volleys of projectiles using his chair. He pulled his bow out from where it had been strapped across his back and tore open the quiver at his side as he looked for where the projectiles were coming from. There—there were gaps in between the ornamental patterns in the wall—Leon caught another round of darts with the chair, and Takumi returned fire as soon as he lowered it, sending two arrows through the holes in the wall.

There was movement to his side, and Leon shoved him back before hurtling the chair at their would-be assailant. “Get to the back of the room,” he commanded as he pulled Brynhildr from his satchel.

Takumi glanced to the innermost part of the room where Shingen had sat and saw that it was free of action for some reason. Trusting Leon, he ran back to the head of the room as he pulled another two arrows from his quiver, quickly taking stock of the situation. Hinoka and Rinka fought off three men on the left side of the room, Camilla and Velka engaged another three on the right to cover for Leon as he ran over to join Takumi. Their retainers held off a group of soldiers at the door. 

Leon opened his tome and an illusory tree rose from the ground in front of Camilla, throwing one of the ambushers against the ceiling. Takumi left that side to Leon and fired his arrows at a shinobi grappling with Hinoka. As an arrow pierced the shinobi's chest, Hinoka took the opportunity to throw them off and pick her naginata up from where it had been knocked to the floor.

A volley of darts shot through the latticed walls, this time from the other side, and Hinoka let out a pained grunt as one found her shoulder and two more struck home in her back. At this angle Takumi could barely see the faint silhouette of the dartblower behind the lattice. He took two arrows and fired on instinct, praying this bow would come through for him like the Fuujin-yumi. One arrow struck the wood of the lattice; the other went through. If it struck true, it didn't seem to slow down the dartblower—a shower of poisoned darts fell upon Rinka, slowing her down just enough for her opponent to knock her off balance.

“We have to deal with the shooters in the walls,” Takumi yelled over the noise of battle.

As he said it, Leon stepped past him and crushed the lattice on Hinoka's side with a strong blow of magic. Takumi took the chance to fire another two arrows through the new gap, and he caught a glimpse of movement in the dimly lit space in the wall—the shinobi had fled.

“The other side,” Leon said, dashing over to aid Camilla. He struck the lattice, leaving an opening for Takumi to fire blindly into the gap.

It seemed that Hinata and Oboro had gained control over the doorway. Setsuna's quick shots soon came to their aid, along with the glow of healing magic from Asama's rod. With the dartblowers gone and both position and numbers to their advantage, the last few ambushers before them fell in rapid succession. The enemy downed, Asama went to his lady to heal her and the queen as they plucked darts out of their flesh.

Without wasting a moment, Camilla straddled one of their enemies where he laid prone on the floor. There was a brief struggle that Takumi couldn't see, obstructed by the table, and Camilla casually tossed something to Velka.

“Be a dear and tell me what you know about the bow,” she purred.

Takumi approached them, wanting to hear whatever was said with his own ears. The man she had pinned—likely a shinobi, given the poison pills Velka was inspecting—muttered something unintelligible, and Camilla pulled his arm around to his back, dislocating it with a _pop_ as he let out a yelp.

“We're in a hurry, you know. I might get a little... impatient.”

Hinata and Oboro came back from where they had forced the enemy to retreat from the doorway, looking at Camilla and then Takumi with alarm in their eyes. Camilla fished a tool from her satchel that looked like a small, flat pair of scissors. She clamped it around the man's finger and Takumi quickly looked away. He heard a light crunch and the sound of the man's pained breaths. Across the room, Hinoka and Rinka were exchanging uncomfortable glances, as if trying to decide whether to intervene.

“Go to hell, Nohrian devil,” the shinobi hissed weakly through his panting.

Camilla tutted, and another crunch followed. Takumi sucked some air into his lungs.

“I mean it, darling,” Camilla said, a cracking sound breaking out accompanied by a strange high-pitched sound— _ahh... ahh... ahh..._ —repeated flat and staccato as the man exhaled. “Your lord has abandoned you. There's no need for your suffering.”

_Except for honor_ , Takumi thought to himself. Camilla seemed to know it. Takumi heard her rummage about her satchel in silence, then the sound of ripping cloth as she said, “It can get worse, you know. How many parts would you like to lose before you die?” 

Takumi found Leon's hand on his shoulder. He looked into Leon's sympathetic eyes as the shinobi's breaths sped.

“Are you ready, big boy? You do know how to make it stop. Well now, let's begin—”

“The vault,” the man said, hoarse and high-pitched. 

Takumi felt his shoulders loosen in relief.

“That's good,” Camilla said. “Where is the vault?”

There was a slight sound from across the room as one of the other defeated shinobi picked herself up from the floor. Rinka noticed and struck her back down, but that distraction—that reminder that others were watching—was enough to render the man silent.

Camilla sighed. Takumi made the mistake of glancing at them, catching the sight of Camilla with a knife between the man's legs, before he remembered not to look.

“Don't test me,” she murmured as he let out a strangled whine. “You can tell me now, or you can tell me after a great deal of pointless suffering.”

There was a scream, and then, “Underground—it's underground—under the estate—”

“Mmhmm. And how would we get down there?”

The man trailed off, the room quiet, time paced by his quick shallow breaths. Then there was the sound of fabric shifting, and Takumi heard Camilla say, “Oh my, what a large family you have. Are those children all yours?”

“Please,” he said. “Please—”

“How do we reach the vault?”

“At the back of the atrium,” the shinobi said as he panted, his words tripping over themselves in a hurry to get out. “The main room. The, the atrium is. The main room on this floor. There're stairs, the door looks like a, a closet, a supply closet. But if you open it there are stairs. It's, the bow's in the main vault, you take two right turns, then the left. The lock, the lock is trapped.”

Camilla gave a hum.

“Please,” the man said, “I'm telling the truth.”

“I hope so.” Camilla strode back toward the rest of them with a lingering glance at a slip of paper in her hand. Takumi caught a glimpse of a lovely sketch—a mother and six or seven children, maybe the shinobi was the artist—before she folded it and tucked it into her satchel. “Are we all ready to go?” Oboro watched Camilla pass with hatred in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Rinkah managed, looking at Camilla warily as she hoisted her club and made for the door. Hinoka followed, and Takumi took this as his cue to go as well. He placed his hand over where Leon's laid on his shoulder, thanking him as he went to join them. Takumi tried not to look at the shinobi as they passed. In that moment, he was thankful that it had never fallen to him to interrogate Claire.

“They shouldn't charge in like that,” Leon said, bringing Takumi's attention back to the sounds of battle that wafted down the hall. Despite their recklessness, Hinoka and Rinka seemed to be doing well. Their strength had recovered during their reprieve and they parried and lunged effortlessly, driving the guards slowly back past an intersection in the hall while Setsuna shot arrows past them. Camilla, leaning on her axe, observed them as she stayed out of their way. Beyond them laid a large and open room, which Takumi figured for the atrium.

“We're at your command, milord,” Hinata piped up from behind him. At the reminder that others were present, Leon glanced back at Takumi's retainers and folded his hands behind his back.

“But it doesn't look like there's much room for us to help,” Oboro observed.

“This place was built to hold back intruders,” Takumi pondered. “It's not going to be easy for us to break through.”

“And Asama's rod may not last for much longer,” Leon said, tactfully not speaking of the difference in power between rods and staves—and it was Asama, too, who always seemed to Takumi to border on incompetence, wearing out rods halfway through any battle.

“We don't know the layout. We're outnumbered, too. We can't just let them hold us here—”

In the next moment, a shower of bolts barely missed Rinka and Setsuna and fell upon Camilla, where they bounced off of her armor. Camilla lifted her axe at that, peering toward the atrium, and Takumi did too, searching for where the volley had come from.

The walls of the atrium rose into ribbed bamboo slats. It was frustrating how obvious it was that they were using the same trick of projectiles through walls all over again, and yet how effective it could be.

“Judging by the angle—” Leon began, looking in the same direction—but the sounds of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and he whirled around with Brynhildr open to blow back a fresh wave of soldiers as Camilla and Velka turned into the intersecting hallway to hold them off.

Takumi grimaced. It was likely the hallway leading to the ballista. He glanced down the opposite hallway, which still stood empty.

Time to take a chance.

“You hold them off—we'll see if we can take the ballista,” Takumi yelled over the chaos, gesturing for Hinata and Oboro to follow. Leon spared him a brisk nod before turning his attention back to the pressing reinforcements.

The empty hallway wound to a stairwell. As they noisily ascended the stairs, Takumi heard a cry of “Who's that?” followed by “Over here!”

“Stay back, milord,” Hinata said. Takumi let Hinata and Oboro pass him as they emerged onto the first floor, several confused soldiers trying to block their way. Takumi's arrows caught them by surprise, and Hinata and Oboro easily brought them to the ground.

“The hallway's clear,” Oboro called back, and they ran down the curving hall. Takumi figured that they were coming up alongside the back of the atrium. 

When they passed a doorway, Takumi called, “Here!” and cautiously tried the knob. Hinata and Oboro doubled back, all of them silent with anticipation as Takumi pushed the door open.

The room was dark but for the lines of light seeping in from the atrium through the far wall, Hinoka's and Rinka's battle cries carrying through the opening. Triumph flitted through Takumi as he stepped into the room.

Then he realized that the mounted weapon in the room wasn't a ballista.

It was a crystal ball.

“Never mind, keep going—” Takumi said, but turned around to discover that Hinata and Oboro were engaging a pair of swordsmen who must have come at the sound of battle. Takumi drew a pair of arrows from his quiver and shot them down, but they were soon replaced by more reinforcements.

It was no use, Takumi realized. Not only had they been outnumbered from the start, but now they were also separated and cornered.

Oboro was excellent at keeping distance with the naginata, and Hinata guarded the few openings her motions gave. The only damage she had sustained throughout the course of the day was a tear across the bottom of her kimono. They could hold strong up here—but Takumi didn't know if Hinoka and Rinka down below could hold out as long.

Takumi fired off two more arrows to help Oboro, then whirled upon the magic orb. If he could get it to fire, it would do just as well as a ballista. He had practiced magic with Leon once, several summers ago, so in theory he knew something about how it was supposed to work—

He set his bow against the dais as he placed his palms on the orb. He focused on the thought of pushing the magic within him—whatever that was—into the ball. The stupid thing stayed dark. Of course it did. He was numb to magic or something and he had no idea what he was doing.

Just as he slumped his shoulders in defeat, there was a soft glow of light in the orb right under his right index finger. Startled, he flinched, and it was gone. 

Suddenly, what Leon had said about _relaxing_ made sense.

Takumi repositioned his hands on the orb and gently pushed his palms against it, and the vapors in the orb underneath his hands began to glow. By trial and error, pushing and relaxing with his eyes fixed on the squirming liquid glow, he managed to get it to spread further through the crystal ball. It was maddening—like when Oboro had tried to teach him sewing, and that thread would go anywhere but through the eye of the needle—but little by little the orb brightened, until all at once with a roar, magical fire spewed from the spouts at the base of the dais and through the slatted wall, blasting a nearly-empty spot in the atrium below.

Takumi grinned to himself. He could do it after all!

_I wish I could see Leon's face when I pull this off_ , Takumi thought as he spun the dial around until its arrow clicked into place toward the soldiers. He placed his hands back on the orb. He knew what to do with the glow now, and within a few moments, he got the orb to blast fire upon the soldiers holding the entrance to the atrium. 

The soldiers screamed. Some feebly held their place as Rinka struck them down. After a second blast, Hinoka and Rinka broke through into the atrium, blowing through the wounded soldiers easily.

Takumi picked his bow back up and turned to the doorway, where Oboro was watching him with admiration. 

Hinata felled one last guard and let out a whoop, saying to Oboro, “We made it!” as he clapped a hand on her shoulder and leaned in. Oboro ducked out from under his arm.

Ignoring his retainers' romantic problems for now, Takumi said, “Let's reunite with the others while we have the chance.”

As if underscoring his words, they heard shouts from further down the hall, the words impossible to discern. The three of them ran back the way they came, weapons held at the ready. 

A shinobi was there on the stairwell, seeming surprised at their approach. As the shinobi reached into his vest for a weapon, Takumi shot the arrow he had ready, and it struck true—a killing shot, right into the eye—and the man's body slowly fell against the railing, then slumped onto the stairs before them.

Takumi paused for a moment. He might not have taken notice of the man's death at all if his body hadn't fallen as it did, blocking his way. It was strange that he had no stomach for torture, he thought to himself, when killing had become so easy.

Without a word, Hinata grabbed the corpse by the elbows and hauled it out of the way. Then they proceeded down the stairs.

They found Camilla and Velka holding off soldiers at the intersection. They were flushed and slicked with sweat, dark patches along the backs of their leggings speaking of wounds they had sustained through the battle.

“Stay here and help them,” Takumi ordered his retainers.

“We can't leave you alone,” Oboro protested.

“My sister and the others should've cleared the way. Help Princess Camilla. I'll be back.”

Oboro made a face but trudged forward with Hinata to relieve Camilla and Velka. Takumi turned and sped through the atrium, picking his way over fallen soldiers to the door left open toward the back.

Takumi reached the stairwell and froze for a moment, three steps visible in the barren stairway that descended into the cavernous dark. He took a breath, touched his hands to the walls on either side to orient himself, and went down the stairs.

He eyes gradually adjusted. Thin cracks of light leaking from the floorboards above illuminated the contours of the passageway. As he approached the first intersection, he saw a blue glow coming from the right, where the shinobi had instructed them to turn.

Takumi peered around the corner and found them all there crowded around a door down the hallway. Leon illuminated the group with a blue lick of magic in one hand. Setsuna was crouched at the door, while Rinka and Hinoka stood behind her with arms crossed impatiently, and Asama sat against one wall as if he were relaxing in a tearoom somewhere. They looked up at his approach.

“How's it been going?” Takumi said.

“We're trying to get past this locked door,” Hinoka said, gesturing to the door as Takumi went to stand next to Leon.

Setsuna hummed as she lightly wiggled something long and slender in the lock. Leon leaned in toward Takumi and muttered, “Zero would be out with the bow by now.”

“Well, Zero threw a tantrum and ran off,” Takumi pointed out. 

Leon furrowed his eyebrows at him, but before he said anything, they all heard Setsuna say, “Oh... it opened.”

Setsuna gave the door a dainty push. It opened a crack, gently and silently.

“Let's go,” Rinka said, squeezing past Setsuna and shoving the door back with a clatter as it struck against the wall. Leon sighed as he followed.

The passageway wound around corners at odd angles until suddenly, it forked. They took the left path, as they had been told, until it came to another door. Hinoka tried it. It was locked.

“Wait,” Leon said, bringing the glow in his hand closer to the keyhole to inspect it. “The informant said we'd find a trapped lock.”

They waited there for a moment as Leon examined the keyhole. At least, Rinka said, “All right, we need to get through. If there's a trap, we'll deal with it.”

Leon raised his eyebrows. “Frankly, that's a horrible idea. We already know that something is in store for us. We should take advantage of that knowledge. Perhaps—”

“'Horrible idea'? I'd say we don't have much choice,” Rinka cut in. “If you can find the trap and get rid of it, great. Otherwise, Setsuna needs to start picking the lock. We don't have time.”

Leon looked a bit miffed as he stepped back. Setsuna wandered up to the door with her bit of wire and leisurely wiggled it in, working delicately at the lock as if she had all the time in the world. Takumi exchanged sympathetic glances with Leon as they both crossed their arms waiting for Setsuna to finish.

Eventually, with the same anticlimactic disposition as before, Setsuna lightly pushed the door open.

“No traps,” Hinoka remarked.

Leon shrugged. Takumi patted the back of his armor as they went in.

The vault smelled surprisingly nice, clean and scented with pine. Leon's blue flame illuminated polished and wax-sealed wooden chests all along the walls, each of them with a conspicuous lock in the front.

“If we start now, we might finish checking all the chests before Princess Camilla's corpse grows cold,” Asama said cheerfully.

Everything else around Takumi faded as he felt a thrum from one of the chests, to the right and near the back. He stepped across the room and placed his hands on its oiled lid. It was as if his bow was touching the lid back from the other side, just as desperate to reunite.

“It's this one,” Takumi said. Hinoka had already followed him to the chest, and she gestured now for Setsuna to come help. Setsuna wandered over, followed by Leon and his light, and she knelt in front of the chest and casually worked her pick into the lock.

“Ow,” Setsuna said out of the blue.

“Ow?” Hinoka repeated.

“I think I got a splinter.”

Hinoka took her hand to examine it, saying, “How would you get a splinter from—” as her voice abruptly trailed off. By the dim light of magic, a dark gush of blood could be seen across the base of Setsuna's thumb. “Asama!” she barked as she took off her cape and ripped off a strip. “Where's that antidote?”

“Oh my,” he said. “Who would've thought that we'd need more than two doses on our carefree journey to save the world?”

“ _Asama_ ,” she gritted out as she tourniqueted Setsuna's forearm. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it looked like her hand was already beginning to swell. “Well, what's your medical opinion? Can we leave it?”

Asama came over to inspect Setsuna's hand, Leon bringing the light closer, and deduced, “It's already quite inflamed, so I'd say that her body is undergoing a dramatic reaction that could kill her within the day.”

Hinoka gritted her teeth, giving the chest a look full of regret. “Fine. Help carry her. We need to get back to town and find a doctor.”

Leon glanced between Takumi, Setsuna, and the chest. “What are we going to do about the bow?” Takumi thought to himself that in Leon's place, he wouldn't have been able to resist saying, _I told you about the traps._

Hinoka turned to him with a severe set to her expression. “What _about_ the bow?”

“If we leave, we'll give them a chance to move it. If they do, we don't know how long it'll take to recover it...”

“What do you want to do? Setsuna can't even pick the lock in her state. Stay if you want, but I'm taking her back.”

With that, Hinoka left with her retainers, Rinka accompanying her after a single glance back. Leon and Takumi stood around the chest.

“This would be a good time for Zero to show up,” Takumi mused out loud.

Leon glanced at Takumi a little resentfully as he said, “I think we all know that isn't about to happen.”

“Guess not.” Takumi squatted and took a good look at the bottom of the chest. It looked like it was sealed to the floor. “We can't take the chest with us. Ugh, why couldn't he have just kept the bow on a pedestal in his private quarters? His game must've been bargaining with us all along.”

“The poisoned barb can't be the only trap,” Leon said. “We need a professional.”

“I guess we can't do anything for now,” Takumi said, hating to admit that Hinoka had been right. “Let's catch up to them before we get separated.”

Takumi headed out the door. Leon followed quietly, light in hand. They caught up to the others before the stairwell, and together they ascended back into the atrium.

It was oddly quiet. Hinata was at the top of the stairwell, and as they emerged he said, “Nice timing! I was just about to come get you.”

Rinka stared at him. “What?”

Hinata pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the archway, where Camilla and Velka stood opposite the manservant that had greeted them at the start. They had their weapons out and ready, but both sides only stood there, waiting. “They said they want to negotiate. I mean, I don't know why they're calling for negotiations now, but the decision is yours to make, Your Highness.”

“Thank the gods,” Hinoka breathed.

Rinka looked around her, at Setsuna carried in Asama's arms, at Takumi with arms crossed, and agred, “Well that's convenient.” She tapped her club against her shoulder thoughtfully as she made for the archway.

Takumi didn't know what she was about to do. He had to make sure she knew what was at stake. “Queen Rinka, wait.”

Rinka paused and looked back at him, arching an eyebrow.

“They'll likely ask for amnesty. But if you let them have it, it'll embolden the other nobles in Fuuma...”

Hinoka looked at Takumi tersely, as if irritated at any delay in Setsuna's treatment. But Rinka seemed to understand, and frowned to herself, bouncing the club on her shoulder. “Then what can we let them have?”

Takumi shrugged, racking his mind for solutions. “Maybe a lesser sentence. You could leave them their lives.”

“Or you could bargain with them to spare them while punishing their master,” Leon added. _Underhanded but clever_ , Takumi thought.

She nodded a few times. “Good ideas.” Then she went to meet the servant at the archway.

Camilla smiled cloyingly as she stepped aside, whispering, “He's all yours.”

Rinka glanced at Camilla, then ignored her. “Here are our terms,” she said to the servant. “One, let us out at once. Two, give us back the bow. Do that, and we'll spare the lot of you.”

The servant's eyes drifted briefly over to Setsuna, as he said, “I'm not certain I could agree. I would ask you to clarify what amnesty we shall be receiving. As I see it, we are at a standstill—”

“If you go on with those stalling tactics I'll cave your skull in,” Rinka snarled, tapping her club impatiently upon her shoulder.

The servant looked at her levelly, as if trying to decide whether to call her bluff. Takumi glanced at Leon, and all at once, an idea began to form in his mind.

He went up to Rinka and laid a hand on her shoulder, saying, “Look, I think your Fire Clan temper is getting the better of you. Maybe you should let me take over—”

Rinka shrugged off his hand and whirled around on him, yelling, “Excuse you? I am the _Queen of Hoshido_. Don't you dare 'Fire Clan' me in the middle of negotiations—”

“All right!” Takumi yelled back, throwing his hands before his face. “I take it back! Don't hit me!”

Rinka looked confused for a moment, meeting Takumi's eyes. Then she understood.

She whirled around on the servant, waving her club wildly in his direction as he flinched and took a step back. “That goes for you too,” she shouted at top volume. “You do what we say or I'll knock you off and try again with the next idiot. Is that clear!?”

“Very,” the servant said, plucking a key out from his vest and handing it to a nearby woman in shinobi's garb. “Go help them with the bow. —And you will spare us all, correct?”

“Yes. Now move.”

The soldiers parted as Hinoka—her lips pressed together with urgency—shoved past them, Asama following on her heels with an unflappably alive Setsuna in his arms. Rinka lingered behind with the rest of them as they waited on the shinobi to return with the bow.

Takumi grinned at Rinka. Rinka leaned in and muttered, “Nice plan.”

“Thanks.”

“But,” she continued, “the next time you insult my people, I really _will_ hit you.”

She looked dead serious. Takumi smiled nervously and tried to defend himself with, “I mean, it can be useful to take advantage of an enemy's misconceptions...”

“Come on, Takumi,” Leon said lightly from beside him. “Let's get your bow.”

At Rinka's glare, Takumi accepted Leon's opening and followed him to the back of the atrium. As he was about to start down the stairs, Leon caught him by the elbow. The contact sent a little thrill through him, knowing that Leon could've just said (as he soon did), “Wait.”

Takumi looked at him in question. Disappointingly, Leon's hand left his elbow.

“Let the runner come back with the bow. The passages down there are made for an ambush.”

“That's true,” Takumi said, stepping back from the door. “But didn't you just say...”

“Don't be so literal.” Leon rolled his eyes at him. “I was bailing you out.”

“Right,” Takumi said. “Thanks.” Takumi gazed down into the dark stairwell, thinking that it couldn't take all that long to go to the vault and retrieve his bow. “Do you think they're really fetching it? It can't take that long.”

“It's hardly been a minute,” Leon pointed out, “and as far as I can tell, they have nothing to gain from going back on their word at this juncture. Relax.”

“We've been fighting for the Fuujin-yumi all day,” Takumi said, a giddy grin working its way onto his face despite everything. “You can't expect me to suddenly relax.”

“Well, I suppose you don't have to relax,” Leon allowed.

Takumi was so elated that he could have hugged him. He settled for slapping Leon on the back of his armor. “I'm going to have my bow back! I'm finally going to be able to pull my weight again.”

“Come now, you've been a great archer all along,” Leon objected good-naturedly.

“It's not the same. It feels like shooting with a practice bow,” Takumi said. “And I just don't feel like myself. I've missed it so much.”

Then he heard slow footsteps on the stairs and promptly fell silent. He saw the cloth first—its vivid bright colors catching his eye as soon as the light fell upon it—and then the shinobi. The shinobi stepped up from the stairway and, as if caught off-guard by his presence there, hesitated for just a moment before dropping to her knees and proffering the bow. “Prince Takumi. The Fuujin-yumi.”

It was somehow strange to him, that his bow came back in something other than the white cloth embroidered with the crest of Hoshido that he had desperately tried to unravel that afternoon in Chevalier. 

Takumi became aware that his fingers were trembling as he reached forth and took the bundle from the shinobi's hands. He could feel that it was there, the Fuujin-yumi calling back to him, as he unwrapped it with great care.

One of his fingers brushed against its cool surface. He swallowed as he gripped it in one hand and brushed off the last layers of cloth.

Wind rushed past his shoulders and gathered in a strand from tip to tip. Like the bow was welcoming him back.


	20. Autumn in the East (Part 2)

Takumi had just registered the fact that Ryouma and the others were waiting outside when Sakura came running up to him, giving him just enough time to hold the Fuujin-yumi out of the way as she buried herself in his chest.

“Thank goodness,” she wept into his kimono. “When we came and saw that there was fighting, for a moment I feared the worst. Then Sister ran past us with Setsuna gravely wounded, and I'd thought...”

Takumi patted her on the head, mindful that they were surrounded by both royal families as he said, “Hey, I'm all right. It all turned out fine. There's no need to cry.”

She shook her head stubbornly, forehead rubbing against his chest, as if insisting that there was absolutely a need to cry. There was absolutely a need, after things had turned out so poorly before. Takumi held her in his right arm, carefully bringing his bow-holding arm around her, while Ryouma—pale with his eyebrows drawn and tense—went up to Rinka, who stood there with a cocky grin on her face.

“See? We made it out fine,” she said.

“I didn't say anything,” Ryouma said.

She gave him a look and casually proceeded past, saying, “Well, we've finished up here, so let's go back before it's dark.”

With Rinka gone and beyond reproach, Ryouma turned to Takumi and said, “It would have been safer to wait for us to join you.”

“I know,” Takumi said, a little irritated. “I wasn't eager to walk into enemy territory with a small force. We heard that they were about to move the bow, so we didn't have time to wait.” He looked over Sakura's head at Ryouma, eye to eye, and wondered how Ryouma could have forgotten that Takumi had every reason to fear. Why was it that his brother chose to charge him with recklessness rather than acknowledge the bravery it had taken?

Ryouma closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Feeling like he was being very responsible, Takumi told the king, “We negotiated a truce. We promised not to execute them in exchange for the Fuujin-yumi and a ceasefire.”

“Then you haven't granted them amnesty,” Ryouma said as he opened his eyes.

“Of course not,” Takumi said. “I made sure to tell Queen Rinka not to.”

“Good,” was all Ryouma said as he proceeded to the fortress gates.

Takumi rubbed at Sakura's back, giving her however much reassurance she wanted until Ryouma was done cleaning up the details and they could all return for some much-needed rest. Off to one side, Pieri was bawling, big undignified tears running dark paint down her face as she cried, “But I wanted to fight!”

Her master stepped away from her side to approach Leon.

“I'll give you a full report once we've returned,” Leon said with a smile.

“Well done, Leon,” Marx said. “I'm glad to see you unharmed.”

“Naturally,” Leon said, unflappable and invulnerable as ever as he followed Rinka to the stables. Takumi watched Marx gaze after Leon's departing back and wondered if Leon felt his older brother's concern.

Sakura finally lifted her head from his chest, and Takumi released her from his arms as she took out her handkerchief and daintily cleaned her tears from her face.

“I'm glad you're all right,” she said. Then she poked him in the chest with one finger and said, “Brother, I cannot lose you, do you understand?”

It was different somehow when Sakura said it. “I know, I know,” Takumi said. “I'm sorry for going in without waiting for backup.”

“I really cannot lose you,” she repeated, face crumbling as she buried herself in his chest again.

* * *

After sating their ravenous hunger at a nearby inn, they flew back to Duke Ashura's estate before the sunlight had fully faded from the sky. With the Fuujin-yumi in one hand, Takumi handed the reins of his kite to Hinata to see the bird to the stables. Hinata took them quietly, his expression a little sullen. Across the courtyard, Oboro dismounted from Tsubaki's pegasus, dusting her clothes off.

“Hey,“ Takumi said to Hinata, “we all came out alive, and with the Fuujin-yumi.”

Hinata glanced at him and put on a strained smile. “Yeah. That's great.” He turned and trudged away, the kite's reins in one hand.

It seemed like kind of a disproportionate response to Oboro not wanting to be kissed, Takumi thought to himself. Of all things, how was this the one that finally brought Hinata's spirits down?

“Takumi,” Leon said. Takumi turned to face him, all thoughts of Hinata promptly set aside. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Caught off-guard by the formality, Takumi stammered, “Uh, sure.” 

Bow still in hand, Takumi followed Leon to privacy in Duke Ashura's estate, wondering as he kicked off his boots if they minded Leon's armored boots upon their nice wood floors. Leon led the way through the doors and up the stairwell, finally opening the door to his guest room.

“Your room? You could've just said so,” Takumi said with a grin as he followed Leon in. It looked much like Takumi's guest room, save that they had provided Leon with a bed in a different style, covered in red sheets that attracted the eye. Leon wiggled the door shut with the awkwardness of someone not quite used to old sliding doors, then looked at Takumi, a haughty eyebrow raised.

“Ah, yes. 'Prince Takumi, I'd like to see you in my quarters.'”

Takumi laughed and argued, “It was good enough for Kamui!”

“We can't all be Kamui,” Leon said with a wave of his hand as he turned to face away from Takumi. “Anyway, I was hoping you'd help me with my armor.”

“I mean, I'm not that familiar with armor...”

“That's fine. I can direct you. I just need help from a second pair of hands.” This must have been Zero's job. Takumi laid the Fuujin-yumi against a chest at the foot of the bed as Leon awkwardly pulled apart a knot at the top of his own shoulder. “There are some buckles going across my arms,” Leon said, holding out his arm for Takumi. 

“This one?” Takumi said as he approached, laying a hand on a leather strap going across Leon's bicep.

“Yes. Undo that for me.”

Takumi took a good look at it. It seemed that the strap went through a metal frame, held in place by a small piece going through a hole in the leather. He tentatively pushed the end of the strap back, figuring out how to release it from the mechanism.

Leon tilted his head back in an attempt to make eye contact. “Have you never undone a buckle before?”

Flushing, Takumi said, “We don't have these things in Hoshido. And it's a servant's job, anyway.”

Leon didn't respond, allowing Takumi to concentrate and free the strap from the clasp. When he finally slid it free, Leon said, “If you find it too menial, I can see if Duke Ashura has a man to spare.”

“No, I figured it out,” Takumi said. “It's fine. Should I unclasp all of them?”

“Please.” Leon turned his arm to reveal the buckle on the next strap, across the underside of his elbow. Takumi looped one arm under Leon's to reach the end of the strap and gently pushed it back through the buckle. At this distance, the scent of Leon's sweat was strong enough to be a little offensive, and Takumi wondered to himself—a little childishly—if it were actually true that Nohrians smelled. He freed the strap and awkwardly caught the armor as it began to fall. “There's a chest at the foot of the bed.” Rearranging his bow against the foot of the bed instead, Takumi opened the chest and put in the arm piece.

The other arm was easier. As Takumi worked at the buckles, Leon wondered aloud, “Do you think Marx might forget about the report I owe him?”

“From what I know of your brother, I don't think he forgets about anything,” Takumi said, slipping the other arm piece off.

Leon pulled off his armored gloves. “Hmm.” He held them out for Takumi to take. “I'll scribe an account and send it to him. It's rather late for a meeting, and there's no hurry.”

And Leon was avoiding his older brother, just like he was avoiding his sisters. His terrifying older sister, the torturer, who he spoke of as if she were the sweetest person in the world. His older brother, grayed and calm, whom he spoke of so bitterly. Takumi set the armor in the chest and made a rote sound of agreement.

Leon hooked his thumbs under the straps running over his shoulders. “The breastplate next,” he said. Takumi undid the buckles over his slender shoulders, then followed Leon's hands directing him to a set of buckles along his sides. As Takumi finished the left side, Leon said, “Marx has this way, you know, of pretending that all's well until he thinks you've forgotten what he's done.”

“Sounds obnoxious.” Though he didn't say it, Takumi thought that Leon had a way of doing the same. As the breastplate came apart with the last strap, Leon caught the front as it fell and handed it to Takumi to take along with the back to the chest.

“By the way,” Leon said, “I've been wondering about something. In today's battle, at one point, a magical orb started blasting at the guards...”

“That was me,” Takumi volunteered.

“That was you? Well done.”

“It all made sense once I could see it. You know how the orb glows when you put magic in it?”

“Of course. Our lamps are based off of the same effect.” Leon gestured vaguely at the armor covering his legs. “The straps are along the sides.”

“You're not impressed,” Takumi muttered, looking down at Leon's legs. Leon could at least humor him considering that Takumi was waiting on him.

“No, it was impressive. No one was there to teach you, and you puzzled it out quickly enough to deal a decisive blow to their defensive formation. All in spite of your difficulties with magic.” 

“All right, stop it with the praise,” Takumi said, crouching down to undo the straps. “It's starting to creep me out.”

Leon sighed and probably rolled his eyes. Takumi didn't look up. Talking to Leon could be so wonderful and annoying in equal measures.

“I know, you're such a genius at magic,” Takumi grumbled, “You could probably even stop your own heart. You're just that talented.”

It was out of his lips before Takumi had fully registered what he had just said. _Stop your own heart_ , an escape of last resort. Camilla, crouched upon the helpless shinobi like a wyvern pinning its struggling prey, ripping its flesh apart with its teeth. 

“Well, I obviously haven't done it before,” Leon said, “although I know the theory.”

His words hung there, the dangling end of their severed conversation, as Takumi removed the leg pieces and silently stowed them in the chest. Leon could bargain. He would never be quite so helpless if he were captured. Good for him.

Takumi smelled, then saw, Leon's armored boots being set against the chest. He found Leon sitting on the bed, feet bare but for his translucent damp socks, the Nohrian kind that collected all his toes together. He had laid his satchel to his far side, Brynhildr always in arm's reach. Takumi placed the boots into the chest and closed it to trap the smell. Leon said, “What's on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Takumi said reflexively. Leon looked so slight in his dark form-fitting underclothes. Takumi sat down next to him on the bed, averting his eyes toward the Fuujin-yumi propped up against the bed. “Just being a jealous prick. Hung up on the past. I don't know.” The truth was that he didn't know what described it anymore. There had been a time, a year ago with Leon in his bed, when he had felt at peace with the lingering memory of humiliation and the callousness of the people around him. Apparently his weakness had hidden underneath all along, waiting to rise up and drag him under the surface. By now he shouldn't have been surprised.

He felt fingers in his hair. Leon's, lightly running across his head, where the strands were held tightly by the ribbon at the back of his head. His scalp was starting to feel sore from the weight of his hair. Takumi raised his hands to take the hairpiece out—Leon's fingers leaving as he did—letting his natural hair spill down halfway past his shoulderblades. For a moment, as Leon set his hands back on the bed, Takumi wondered if Leon felt as if he'd been refused. 

Takumi turned to Leon who sat there with no particular expression, neither hurt nor curious nor confused. A little tired maybe, his hair clumped together on his forehead where sweat had dried.

“You know, you're the only one I've talked to about Chevalier,” Takumi said.

“Really?”

“Really,” Takumi said, coming closer. He drew Leon in with an arm around his shoulder and kissed him as Leon's arms wrapped around him, his fingers tracing through his hair. Leon's body pressed against his own, warm and firm.

Something prickled against his lips, and Takumi pulled back to see what it was. He was near enough to see little blond hairs dusting across Leon's upper lip and chin.

“What is it?” Leon said uncertainly.

“When did you last shave?” Takumi wondered with a teasing grin.

“This morning,” Leon replied, looking away and touching his lips self-consciously. “I usually shave again in the afternoon, but considering that we found ourselves in the middle of a battle...”

“It's fine.” Takumi kissed his jaw, spiky stubble and all. “It's fine, I was just curious.”

Leon, drawing away, took Takumi's jaw in one hand and lifted his chin to scrutinize his face. “When did _you_ get a chance to shave?”

“Uh... the day we left Shirasagi. Wait, no, the morning before that.”

“That's... three days ago?” Leon said as his thumb rubbed indelicately across Takumi's jaw. “You've grown almost nothing in three and a half days?”

Takumi gently pushed Leon's hand away from his face, twining their fingers together instead. “Yeah, it takes me over a week to grow that much.” 

“I'm jealous,” Leon said with a frown that was more of a pout. “I have to spend so much time each day in front of a mirror.”

“Well, you obviously have enough time left over to master magic and board games, so you can deal with it.” Takumi leaned in to nuzzle him, Leon's body giving way to let them both fall back against the pillows.

It was so incredible, Takumi thought, to be able to be so close to Leon, to feel Leon's chest rising with his breaths underneath his own, to feel his damp sweat against his hand and the stubble of his jaw against his cheek. “I didn't want to get sweat on the sheets,” Leon said lightly, voice trailing off as his other arm wrapped around Takumi's middle in contradiction.

“If you want a basin of water you'd better ask a servant,” Takumi muttered into the crook of his neck. 

“I wasn't going to make you get it.” Leon slipped his hand free from Takumi's. Takumi lifted his head to check if Leon had minded the jab, but he only seemed distracted. He half-rose from the bed and awkwardly pulled out his satchel from where it had been pinned underneath him. 

Leon held it in the air for a moment, Brynhildr's cover peeking out from its top, as he looked to the side of the bed where there was no nightstand.

“Can I see it?” Takumi said. Leon raised a curious eyebrow, but held the satchel in place for him. Takumi slid out the tome and laid down upon the soft bed at Leon's side, raising Brynhildr into the air above him. The tome looked so unremarkable for what it was—clean (unlike other old and venerated books) and decorated with swirls of dark metal as if its creator had a child's grasp on what sights struck fear into the hearts of mortal men. But it was Leon's tome, a divine weapon of Nohr that mirrored his own.

Takumi flipped through its pages of magical language, wondering to himself what it was all for. Leon only ever uttered a few words at most whenever he cast from it. Leon bumped his head lightly against Takumi's and said, “Want to see something scandalous?”

“Sure.”

Leon took the book from his hands and flipped about two-thirds in. He leafed through the pages before finally stopping at one and handing the book back to Takumi and pointing to the page on the right. “See anything odd?”

There were a few lines of text on the page that looked slightly uneven. He spotted the word _Leon_ and looked closer. The sentence at the end of the paragraph was written in modern tongue. “To victory, quoth Leon,” Takumi read aloud. And at the end of the paragraph above it: _To sate Nohr's hunger, quoth Garon._ “You've been writing in your divine tome?”

“Apparently, it's a tradition,” Leon said with a mischievous grin. “Though I wish I hadn't written mine when I did.”

“Yeah?”

“Brynhildr used to just be a prize. It was a sign I'd been chosen to rise in the court, and I couldn't help but gloat. 'To victory.' Now my heirs are going to remember me as a shallow brat.”

“You could blot it out and rewrite it,” Takumi said. “'Never mind about victory, quoth adult Leon.'”

Leon huffed and elbowed him.

“But you know, I don't think people will remember you by one secret inscription. I think history judges us for what we leave behind for future generations.”

“Goodness, Takumi. You have a way of making things even more depressing.”

There was a pause that ran between them as Takumi processed the fact that Leon had no optimism about the outcome of all his efforts that consumed him entire. Turning his face toward Leon, forehead against his temple, Takumi told him, “You're a good ruler.”

“I don't really want to get into this.”

“You are, though. I used to criticize you for a lot of things, but I've come to realize that you do an amazing job with everything the world throws at you.”

Leon bore a peculiar expression. It seemed to Takumi that he might be biting his lip to keep from smiling. At last, Leon said, “Your turn. Show me your bow.”

Indulging Leon's embarrassment, Takumi handed Brynhildr back to Leon as he crawled to the foot of the bed to retrieve the Fuujin-yumi. He scooted back to rejoin Leon, who had tucked Brynhildr between his pillow and the head of the bed. “Don't try to use it,” Takumi warned him as he held the bow out to Leon, “unless you want to make a mess of the room.”

“Oh?” Leon said as he sat up and took it, running his fingers over its smooth surface. “What would happen, exactly, if I tried to use it?”

“The air around you would try to resolve into a bowstring. If not properly controlled, wind would whip wildly around the room.”

“That's assuming I couldn't control it,” Leon said, grinning wickedly. 

“Well, you're the one who has to sleep here tonight.” Takumi let his head rest upon Leon's shoulder as Leon continued to examine his bow. He wondered if Leon felt on edge without Zero. Leon spoke so often of survival and assassination, and here he was in a foreign land without his personal guard.

Leon set the Fuujin-yumi flat so that its length ran over both of their laps. Takumi reached out and laid his hand upon his end of his beloved bow.

“You know, back when we first traveled together,” Leon said, “I thought it was strange how you brought your bow everywhere.”

“Don't you take your book everywhere?” Takumi said a bit defensively.

“A book is a lot smaller than a bow,” Leon said wryly. “Once you almost knocked me in the face when you turned around in the mess hall.”

Takumi found himself laughing, cheek rubbing against Leon's shoulder soft and warm. “The Fuujin-yumi is really important to me,” Takumi half-mumbled into Leon's undershirt. “When it acknowledged me, it was like the first time that I felt like I belonged in the royal family.”

Leon's shoulder rose in rhythm with his breaths beneath Takumi's head. “You felt like you didn't belong?” Leon said.

“Well—I don't look much like my father, and I guess my mother was bitter about Queen Mikoto around the time she had me. They kept saying she had an affair.—Coming to think of it, maybe that's why she was always tired of me.”

And yet Takumi often heard, after Ikona died, that he had taken after her the most. Her ghost lived on in his bitterness, even as his love for Mikoto surpassed her.

“Hm,” Leon said. He rested both thumbs on the Fuujin-yumi.

“Anyway, they said I was a useless crybaby and it was fortunate that I wasn't the heir apparent, and, I don't know.” Takumi idly picked against one of the bow's decorative ridges with his fingernail. “Then I inherited a divine heirloom and suddenly it was bad form to say stuff about me. Suddenly it was wrong to offend me, like I had turned into a prince overnight.”

Leon rested his cheek upon Takumi's head.

To his silence, Takumi said, “I'm rambling.”

“No,” Leon said. “I was just thinking.” Leon traced one hand down the length of the bow, Takumi's heart a little giddy as the heel of Leon's palm rested upon his leg. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, and yet there's so much I don't know about you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Leon made a noncommittal sound and kissed his hair. Takumi thought that Leon carried his mother's bitterness too, berating anyone for showing something of their true selves.

Takumi gazed down at Leon's hand upon his bow, pale with long fingers and his nails already picked clean of grime. He liked that, sharing his most prized possession with the one he loved. “I'm going to have to give it up soon,” Takumi sighed. He leaned into Leon's side, placing his hand over Leon's. The muscles in the back of Leon's hand flinched, then loosened.

He could feel Leon moving his head to look at him. Was Leon scrutinizing him for holding his hand? _It isn't weird,_ Takumi told himself. _We've been laying on each other all evening. We've been kissing each other. Holding his hand isn't weird._

Leon said, “It's nice having you here.”

“Yeah,” Takumi said in relief.

“Long day.” Leon turned his hand, clasping Takumi's palm in his palm. “It feels like you've been here for ages.”

“Me too. It happens when you're tired.”

“Well, I meant...” Leon said, his voice trailing off. He settled his head back upon Takumi's shoulder. The thought went unfinished, but Takumi had a feeling he knew what Leon meant. Something like _Thank you for staying with me, when so many others would not._

Closing his eyes, Takumi asked, “Do you want Hinata or Oboro to stand guard for you tonight?”

“Hm?”

“I asked if you want to borrow one of my retainers to stand watch overnight.”

“Ah.” Leon's body rose underneath him as he took a deep sighing breath. “No, it's all right. The premises are fairly well-guarded by Duke Ashura's watchmen. I have Brynhildr with me if worst comes to worst.”

“It doesn't have to come to the worst,” Takumi said. “I want to make it so you can sleep soundly.”

Leon lifted his head, and Takumi tilted his head up to find Leon looking at him contemplatively. “That's very kind of you,” Leon said finally, kissing him lightly on the nose. His hair brushed against Takumi's eyelashes and he blinked. “But it's all right. It wouldn't be the same as having Zero there.”

 _But Hinata and Oboro are so much more reliable,_ Takumi thought to himself, but didn't say. “Yeah,” he said instead. “It's not the same when it's not your own retainers. I'd feel the same way if our situations were reversed.”

In fact, their situations might not have been so different. Takumi wasn't sure he could put his finger on when it had happened, but it seemed like Hinata and Oboro were slowly growing away from him. Perhaps it had started with keeping his distance from Oboro after her confession. And the way he'd repeatedly asked Hinata to leave him alone with Leon couldn't have helped. It shouldn't have surprised him that lately they were more preoccupied with each other.

“I need a second retainer,” Leon said, leaning onto Takumi again. “I should've tried harder to find one.”

“With how dangerous things are, I'm surprised you haven't. Too busy?”

Leon shook his head, his hair tickling against Takumi's forehead. “The better applicants didn't get along with Zero.”

“Oh.”

“In hindsight, it was fortunate that the retainer my father forced on me was someone like Odin. He was very good at what he did, and yet his personality was uniquely ridiculous in a way that meshed well with both Zero and I. It's been—difficult to find someone to fill the post he left vacant.”

Takumi never understood the situation with the Nohrian retainers. From what he had gathered, half of them were criminals who had been caught attacking the royal family, and the other half mysteriously appeared in court and were ordered into service by a mad King Garon. They could be lewd and immature and at the end of the day, it seemed as if the lords picked up after their servants.

Leon said, shifting under him, “My arm's going numb.”

Takumi lifted his head. Leon stretched his arms above his head and rubbed at them. With a yawn, he sank into the bed, and Takumi—setting down the Fuujin-yumi against the edge of the bed—followed suit.

Takumi settled onto his side, gazing at Leon by the warm light of the Kougan lamps. Leon, turning to his side, gazed back. For all that he was tired and disheveled, he still looked adorable. 

“You know, if he's willfully insubordinate,” Takumi ventured, “I don't know if it's worth—”

“Hush,” Leon said, laying his thumb over Takumi's mouth, his hand upon his cheek. “Zero is irreplaceable.”

 _Am I irreplaceable?_ Takumi wondered underneath the feeling of Leon's damp, cool fingers upon his face. 

“There are few that I could trust as much as I do Zero. Until this morning, I could always depend on him to carry out any mission I gave him.” Leon took his thumb off of Takumi's lips, joining his other fingers upon his cheek. “And it may well be my own actions that led here.”

“Why? What did you do?” 

His hand falling away, Leon's eyes turned to the side, looking down into the sheets. After a moment of consideration, he said, “I believe I told you once that Zero made an advance on me in the first few months we knew each other.”

“Wasn't that years ago?”

“Yes—but—well, see, at the time, I thought he was just trying to rile me up. I laughed and said—something rather scathing to him. About being propositioned by a man.”

It occurred to Takumi that Zero might have felt like he did, all those years ago.

Leon closed his eyes and said, “Imagine what this must look like to him.”

Takumi thought instead about Leon in front of him, lying there in his thin underclothes with his eyes closed, looking so vulnerable for someone capable of being so cruel. He laid an arm over Leon's side, and as Leon opened his eyes, Takumi—held by his gaze—wondered if it was the wrong time to say something. Or if it was the perfect time, while Leon himself seemed willing to acknowledge the mistakes he had made.

“I think I can imagine,” Takumi said quietly.

Leon's expression hardened, as if to say _You're bringing that up again?_

“I didn't mean—” Takumi fumbled, squeezing Leon closer. 

“What's your point?” Leon said with his chin over Takumi's shoulder, his voice soft and flat.

Takumi closed his eyes, taking in the feel of Leon pressed up close against him. “It'd be so easy for you to just erase me from your life. What would you do if things get hard? Would you let me go to save your reputation?”

“That's a pointless hypothetical,” Leon mumbled next to his ear. “Under the wrong circumstances, anything can fall apart.”

“I don't want us to fall apart.”

Leon sighed, patting his hand twice against Takumi's arm, as if soothing a child.

His mind churned to piece together his thoughts. “It's not that hypothetical,” Takumi said. “Are you planning to keep me a secret forever?”

“Forever is a long time,” Leon said. Takumi wanted to strike his evasive mouth. “But for now, at least. Why does it matter so much to you? I thought Hoshidans were reserved about romantic matters anyway.”

A bit insulted, Takumi said, “That's not the same thing. _Reserved_ doesn't mean keeping it a secret from your closest friends and family.”

Leon let out a strange laugh, his whole chest jerking under Takumi's arms.

“I know you've been fighting with your brother and sisters,” Takumi said, “but don't they always support you when it really counts?”

“Give it up, Takumi,” Leon said as he lifted Takumi's arm off of him and pulled away. “You don't understand.”

Takumi found his voice going soft all of a sudden as he said, “You really don't think you would be accepted? Not even by your siblings?”

Leon settled upon his back and crossed his arms. His let his head sink back into the pillow as he murmured, “Don't put words in my mouth.” Takumi gazed upon the neat outline of Leon's profile, his long Nohrian nose, his strangely placid expression, the way his eyes sank tiredly into his face. At last, he said, “Camilla might.”

Takumi tentatively reached out and laid a hand on Leon's shoulder. When Leon made no move to repel him, Takumi curled closer. “Talk to Camilla,” he said. Powerful, mysterious Camilla, graceful and maternal and cruel. It didn't matter what Takumi thought of her—if Leon counted her as a protector then that was good enough. 

Takumi left a kiss on Leon's cheek. Leon breathed out and looked back at Takumi. He said nothing, his gaze steady, soft yet scrutinizing.

“What?” Takumi murmured.

“I think I'd like some time to myself,” Leon said. Takumi's chest grew tight and all the features of Leon's face—eyes weary, expression cold—seemed sharp in his vision.

His voice smaller, less indignant than he wanted it to be, Takumi said, “You're going to kick me out again?”

“No. But I want to be able to speak with Zero if he comes back tonight. And your retainers must be looking for you as well.”

Leon's explanation made sense and yet Takumi couldn't shake the sense that this was some kind of rejection. For pushing too hard. For speaking aloud fears that Leon wanted to leave unspoken.

For being a clingy not-quite-lover who took every opportunity to touch Leon like he couldn't believe it was real, expecting that it would soon go away.

Takumi said, “Okay.” He thought of how he'd tried to be just fine, laying one night next to Leon in his bed after Leon had rebuffed him—and lost all strength to push himself up from the bed, or even lift his hand from Leon's shoulder.

He listened to Leon's breathing—gently pulled in, held there for a moment in his chest, then released with the faintest whistle through his nose, repeated slowly and steadily—as he wondered if it would always be this way, if every other moment of intimacy would somehow leave his heart tender and swollen. And he wondered whether it was because of who Leon was and the problems he had, or if it was because of his own tangle of need and distrust. He wondered if it was something all couples went through, or if it was a sign that something between them had gone wrong. Or if it was something that would always haunt him so long as he fell for men.

After some time had passed, Leon reached over and stroked the hair upon his head. He kissed Takumi upon the forehead and said, “See you tomorrow.”

Then Takumi found the strength to say, “Yeah... see you,” as he raised himself upon his elbows.

For a moment, crouched on his elbows, he looked at Leon, who gazed at the ceiling and not at him. Slowly, Takumi slid down from the bed. He took the Fuujin-yumi from where it was leaned against the bed. Walking around the end of the bed and the chest to reach the door, the room seemed awfully large. At the door he paused and looked back at Leon, laying on his back with his hands crossed upon his chest, eyes closed as if he were already asleep.

He wasn't, of course. Takumi knew that Leon was too on edge for that. Laying there with his eyes closed, Leon shut him out from his world.

Tentatively, Takumi said, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Leon repeated, opening his eyes to look back.

With a glimmer of hope in his chest, Takumi smiled back. His eyes still on Leon, Takumi slid open the door. Leon closed his eyes, and only then did Takumi step through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 7/19/2016: JoW is temporarily on hold while I get my life together. I fully intend to continue as soon as I have the energy to devote to it.
> 
> Update 7/24/2017: Yeah, I know it's been forever. Long story, I'll post tl;dr about it later. Anyway, I've nearly polished up the next two chapters good enough for posting. If you don't see a new chapter up by the end of August 2017, come kick my ass.


	21. Winter in the East

There were voices arguing at his door—Oboro and a man. Someone he didn't like.

“—will not disturb him while he's sleeping,” Oboro was saying, too loudly. Takumi imagined telling her as he remained unmoving in his bed, _Could you please lower your voice?_ His whole body was stiff and sore.

“Like I've said, I'm not here for your lord,” the man said. “I'm here for mine.”

_Oh. It's Zero._

Zero continued, “And it's my job to serve him. Move.”

Takumi pushed himself up and rubbed at his woolly eyes. He found his slippers where he'd strewn them at odd angles the night before.

“It's my job to protect mine,” Oboro countered. “This is my lord's room, not yours. Keep your distance.”

“I wish I'd left you to die,” Zero said.

“Likewise.”

Takumi slid the door halfway open to find Oboro standing with her naginata at the ready. Zero loomed just within range, one eye flickering to Takumi, then past him into the room.

“Where's Lord Leon?” Zero said.

“In his room, last I knew,” Takumi said, resisting the urge to rub his eyes again. Zero was too clean and too awake. Still, no matter the state of his bedhead, he was a prince and Zero wouldn't dare look down on him while his retainer had a naginata to his throat. “Why are you here?”

“He isn't there. And you know why.”

Takumi glanced at Oboro. Thankfully, she was looking at Zero as if he had gone mad. As if to make sure his point wasn't lost, Zero continued, “Did you know that your darling lord—”

Before Takumi's throat could even tighten, Oboro's naginata was an inch away from Zero's nose. “You will not speak ill of my lord,” she snarled. She was such a wonderful retainer. 

Zero looked at the point of the naginata as if gauging whether it was worth the risk.

“I already told you,” Takumi said to silence him, “all I know is that Leon was in his room, waiting for you to come back after you abandoned him.” 

Zero shot him a withering glare. For a moment he seemed on the verge of delivering a cutting response. But all he did was glance at the naginata once more. Then he left with urgency in his step.

“What was that all about?” Oboro grumbled, expression still contorted with displeasure.

“I'll explain later,” Takumi said, realizing as he said it that Oboro wasn't looking for any reason deeper than Nohrian rudeness. “I'm going to get dressed.” He closed the door and found where the servants had left him a clean set of clothes. He gingerly put them on, his body aching from yesterday's battle. And to think, he'd spend the whole day balanced on the back of a bird. He wasn't looking forward to that.

The sun's light cast the world in a fragile pallor of early morning unfamiliar to Takumi. The Fuujin-yumi glinted a faint gold where it rested across a table. As he picked it up, Takumi thought it was odd that Leon wasn't asleep in his room at this hour—Takumi was under the impression that Leon also tended to be late to bed and late to rise. Well, he supposed it didn't matter. If they had time—and Aqua had told them they could go at an easier pace now that the Fuujin-yumi had been found—Takumi wanted to hit the shooting range and cherish the time he had left with his bow.

When Takumi slid open the door, Oboro told him promptly, “Ah, milord, I just remembered that King Ryouma asked to see you once you were awake.”

“Oh,” said Takumi, slightly disappointed. “Did he say what for?”

“No. He just said it was important and he has to see you before we leave Kouga.”

“Sounds like him.” Takumi ran his hand through his hair. He hoped he didn't look too disheveled. “Where can I find him?”

“I'm not sure. He didn't say,” Oboro said apologetically. “At least we're not planning to depart until mid-morning.”

“It's all right. I'll find him somehow.”

And maybe he'd still have time to hit the shooting range afterwards.

* * *

Ryouma's room was down the hall, and although Takumi didn't think he'd be there, he figured that he might find someone who knew where he'd gone.

Strangely enough, Setsuna was standing outside his brother's room, staring off into space, for all the good she did as a guard. Unfortunately, she probably had no idea where anyone had gone. Takumi had just thought to himself, _Well, at least Hinoka's probably there,_ when he also heard Rinka's brash voice coming from the room. Perfect—that made two people who might know.

“—thought it through. Sure, I knew I was going to be queen, and bear a few heirs, but I didn't think that'd turn into... all of it. You know?”

On the other hand, Takumi wasn't sure he should be interrupting. He glanced at Setsuna for a cue, but Setsuna had yet to notice him.

“Yeah,” responded Hinoka's voice. “That's exactly why I'm kind of glad I've never had any serious suitors. Once you're married, everything changes.”

“Everything changes,” Rinka agreed. “Even the man.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Like he doesn't have to put any effort into it.” And Takumi was increasingly sure he was not meant to be hearing this conversation. He thought about going back to his room and coming back later. “I don't think we've sparred since last year. Meanwhile, I'm over here busting my ass trying to keep the baby happy. Getting no sleep when he's unhappy. You know.”

But if he left, would he lose track of them both? He did have to find Ryouma for important business.

“You could have someone help out. Our mother had a separate nurse for each of us.”

Rinka made a sound suggesting that she was not at all happy about the idea. “It feels irresponsible.”

“You're pretty busy with other things,” Hinoka pointed out. “Fighting Fuuma into submission, for instance.”

“My mother raised me. My mother was raised by her mother. My father was raised by his mother. In my village there was one kid whose parents died from being gored and trampled by a boar, and his aunt's family raised him. Giving a baby to a someone else, just because you're busy, is irresponsible.” And pausing, as if realizing that that's exactly what she had done in coming out here, she added, “If I weren't going crazy cooped up, I wouldn't've done it.”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Takumi had finally resolved to leave and ask the servants about his brother. But at that very moment, Setsuna finally looked at him and said, “Oh, hey. Good morning, Prince Takumi.”

Hinoka and Rinka must have heard. The silence continued. Trapped, going red in the face, Takumi could only reply as if he had done nothing wrong—he never meant to!—“Um, good morning.”

The screen door banged open at startling velocity and Hinoka was frowning at him in the doorway, saying, “Are you eavesdropping?”

“No!” he said, while the volume of his denial undoubtedly cast him as an eavesdropper. “I'm trying to find our brother. He wants to talk to me. Do you know where he is?”

Rinka called from somewhere inside the room, “Meeting with Duke Ashura,” as if the interruption weren't worth getting up for.

“Thanks,” Takumi mumbled, turning around to escape the situation. The Fuujin-yumi bounced on his back—he really did carry it everywhere, just like Leon said—which somehow made it all the more embarrassing.

“I think they're in a conference room on the first floor,” continued Rinka.

“Okay, thanks,” Takumi yelled back. And it was only once he was safely at the stairwell that he appreciated that Rinka had pointed him in Ryouma's direction.

Takumi stumbled about the first floor, too proud to ask a servant for directions. Serendipitously, he heard his brother's voice from around a corner—“Absolutely a pleasure.”—and found his way to the conference room just as Ryouma and Ashura emerged into the hall. Ryouma caught sight of him and waved him over, saying, “Ah, here's Takumi. Come join us.”

“Good morning,” Takumi said, glancing between them as he approached. It didn't seem to bother them that he'd arrived too late for the meeting. Duke Ashura gave him a lopsided smile that looked nearly as awkward as his own.

“Good morning. King Ryouma and I were just discussing how to, uh...”

Ashura stared at the wall over Takumi's head, as if searching desperately for the right words. Ryouma took over for him. “The events at the Shingen estate concerned us both. I think we should maintain a greater presence in the area.”

The two of them looked at him. They were asking him to do something, but Takumi wasn't entirely sure what. “I'd be honored to help...” he hedged, looking to Ryouma in question.

“We want you stationed at the embassy in Kouga. Your presence alone ought to deter trouble from Fuuma, and your tactical knowledge would allow us a rapid first response should the situation deteriorate.”

Takumi took a moment to process Ryouma's request. It sounded like he was being assigned as Commander of the southern front, albeit during a time of supposed peace. But there was a difference between himself and most generals—“But wouldn't that give them more leverage if they managed to capture me?”

Ryouma looked at him levelly, and for a moment Takumi imagined that he would say _There's a well-worn solution to that, if you would commit to your duty._ Anger laced with chagrin had begun to bubble in him when Ryouma said, “We'll station a full guard with you. Fuuma's strength is in subterfuge. You're safer in Kouga with an armed force than in the capital without one.”

And so Takumi's anger abruptly evaporated, leaving him unable to react.

“They've yet to give me trouble in my house,” Ashura pointed out, “though things sure would be easier for them with me gone.”

“I see,” Takumi said, nodding along to buy himself time to think. The post was clearly a cut above any of the duties that had ever been entrusted to him before. What made Ryouma decide to trust him with the region that Hoshido had failed to tame for a generation? It couldn't have been just yesterday's success. Did Ryouma think him capable after all? “How long would I be needed in this post?”

“We'll try it for a year and see what happens.”

He still didn't know what to think of the whole thing—And they sprung it on him in the middle of the hallway!—but if Ryouma wanted it, he couldn't decline. For a moment he resented that he was once again not in control of his own fate, but consigned to following the path that his brother, the king, set out for him.

But it was important for Hoshido's future. Understanding that, Takumi swallowed his resentment, smiled, nodded, and did his best to look agreeable as he said, “Very well.”

* * *

Then again, the southern coast was the closest he could be to Nohr—and Leon—with no bridge across the Chasm.

That thought teased across his mind as Takumi followed a guard's directions to the archery range in the back of the estate. His Fuujin-yumi was cool beneath his hand in the chilly crisp air, a thin layer of fog muddying the distant targets into shades of off-white brown, the occasional sea breeze whipping through. Here, alone with his bow, Takumi appreciated the challenge. It seemed fitting that his last shooting session with his beloved bow would test all he had learned from it over the years.

With one motion, he summoned a slender arrow, pulling it back against the bowstring as it formed. He held it there, staring down the faintly visible dark center of the middle target, relishing the calm beauty of shooting for its own sake, not war but art.

The wind stilled. He released the arrow. It sliced through the air and the target, leaving the shadow of a small hole visible in its center.

Takumi exhaled, basking in his perfect shot with a silly grin. Then, showing off to himself, he followed it up with another shot, arrow and bowstring made in one motion, and another with a flick of his wrist, and a third, and a fourth in quick succession, his arrow hand never needing to reach for a quiver. The shots formed a yawning constellation on the target, a few holes barely straying from the center.

Satisfied, he set his sights on the furthest target. Its center was invisible in the fog, but Takumi could imagine for himself where it was. He made an arrow and pulled it back, yet not quite feeling ready to release it. His hand trembled slightly from the force of his draw as he pondered, _Leon could take up a post in Muse. Then we'd only be a two days' sail away from each other._

His arrow shot bright into the distance and disappeared with the sound of its impact. Takumi squinted into the misty distance but couldn't see where it had landed. Ah well. He formed another and drew back his next shot. 

Would they continue their correspondence while stealing away to meet at the Sevenfold Sanctuary? Buffered from the world by a stretch of sea, they could lay entwined together on the coast, laughing off all the duties that awaited them. Then in between trips, they could fire letters back and forth, delivered so quickly that they could exchange two in a day, like schoolboys passing notes. 

… _If_ Leon took a post at Muse. (If Leon would continue to feel this way after they went home. If becoming a father wouldn't change him.)

Takumi let his arrow fly. It, too, struck the distant target but he could not tell where. He closed his eyes and let out his breath slowly until his chest laid flat.

They had already gone over all of that. They'd cleared the air. If Leon felt apprehensive, they could talk it over. It would be all right.

 _It would be all right_ , Takumi repeated to himself. For years he'd made a mess of things by shooting from the gut, lashing out at every slight, incapacitating himself with worry. Maybe, for once, he could do himself a favor. He could believe that things would work out.

He opened his eyes. He sucked in air as he formed another arrow, and without overthinking it, he let it fly. It thwacked against the target like all the others.

It seemed like barely any time had passed by the time a servant approached him to inform him that his party was gathering to leave. When he went to examine the target before he left, he found that two shots had landed in the innermost ring and a third had hit the center. It seemed like a good omen.

* * *

Half of them were already there in the courtyard when Takumi arrived—Ryouma and Sakura, Marx and Elise—and Hinoka came in leading her own mount shortly afterward. Leon wasn't among them yet. It was as if the gods knew just how much Takumi had to say to Leon and made sure that he wouldn't have a single chance to talk to him.

Ryouma went to Marx, asking something Takumi didn't catch. With a frown Marx answered, “I'm not sure. Leon, at least, has a habit of oversleeping.”

Catching the flutter of light hair at the edge of his vision, Takumi turned. Instead of Leon, he found Claire, led by Saizou. He'd half-forgotten that she would also be with them until they parted ways with Nohr. And then it would all be up to Marx and whatever bargain he had struck with her to reveal the location of the bow—no doubt she'd receive far less than the punishment she deserved. _It would be better if she were left for us to deal with in Hoshido,_ Takumi thought, narrowing his eyes.

Claire caught his glance, then casually scanned her eyes across the courtyard as if she hadn't noticed anything in particular. Insulted, he kept his eyes on her, willing her to feel his hatred, gloating with the Fuujin-yumi across his back.

Without looking at him, she said, “It's a curious thing, your alliance with Nohr.”

“Who gave you permission to speak?”

She was silent for just a moment—thinking, not obeying—before she dared to look him in the eye and say, “How do you know they can be trusted?”

So just like the last time they spoke, Claire would poke and probe for a weakness in him to exploit. Absurd—the trust between Hoshido and Nohr was so implicit, made solid as they fought side by side to save their world, that it was beyond the petty politics Claire practiced. 

“I know they can,” Takumi replied. “And it's not for you to question.”

Despite his words he was talking to her—he couldn't seem to help it. He was too easy to bait and she knew it. Saizou watched Takumi carefully, as if watching for a sign to intervene.

“I understand that you distrust me,” she said, “But consider this: They were the victors in our father's court. They proved better at the game of lies than I.”

“Or they deserved to win.” Gaining momentum, he said, “They're braver, more virtuous, more talented, and you're a rat chewing jealously at their heels.”

“Talent and virtue?” She looked at him with a hint of dark amusement. “When I was six, our magic teacher thought I had the most talent of all the heirs.”

“I see you've failed to make anything of it,” Takumi retorted.

Claire's eyes turned serious now, still and assured. “Because my mother was framed for the death of my brothers by her closest friend.”

“Oh?” Thrown off, but trying not to show it, Takumi glanced at Saizou willing himself to remember what he'd been told about Claire all those years ago. “You were one who said she'd done it.”

Looking away, her head lowered just enough to show her long lashes, she said, “Yes. I was imprisoned, degraded, until I betrayed her too.” 

She turned her eyes back to him, as if to say, _I know you understand_ , and it made him burn with anger—she wasn't allowed to call upon his sympathy, not her, his own torturer. In his frustration he couldn't shape thought into words before she continued speaking.

“Alone in the dark, I asked again and again why my godmother had done this to us. When in the end I returned to my father's court to attend my own exile, I found the answer. But you already know why, don't you?” 

Takumi didn't. In his irritation he had barely followed her selfish little story. And so Claire looked over Takumi's shoulder, lifting her chin to point past him. 

“Genevieve wanted Brynhildr for her own son.”

Then he understood.

With the hair on his arms prickling on end, Takumi turned his head, knowing who he would see: Leon following Camilla into the courtyard, Brynhildr's form conspicuous in the satchel at his side. Overwhelmed by how much he had learned in so little time, Takumi barely heard Claire continue, “With how well it all turned out, I imagine she murdered Victor and Felipe to begin with. Scheming was her talent. As well as it is his.”

Straining his constricted throat, Takumi said, “Quiet,” as he walked away from them. If only he'd had the conviction to say _shut your lying mouth._ Still, Saizou took his cue and gave her bound wrists a reproachful yank. Claire said no more. She didn't need to.

“My apologies for holding you up,” he heard Leon say to Marx. Halfway to Leon, Takumi stopped. There wasn't time for any kind of conversation now. Pretending that he had been headed for his own mount all along, Takumi thought to himself, _It doesn't mean anything, how dare she lock me in the dark then ask me to feel sorry for her, besides it was his no-good mother, I already knew that they were killing each other, as if I can trust anything she says in the first place!_

And still he wondered why he'd never heard this story from Leon over the course of all the letters they'd sent as Takumi recovered from his imprisonment under Claire. Leon had told stories of his past like a war scar, proud of his cleverness and resilience through the adversities of his childhood. As for the shadowy truths that had no place in this tale of triumph, Takumi had not thought to ask.

Mounting his already-saddled kite, Takumi couldn't help but look again at Leon. Leon wore a look of complete calm as he beckoned Zero to help with his wyvern. _It didn't go well with Camilla_ , Takumi guessed. And for a moment he second-guessed himself, wondering if he was seeing something where there was only normalcy, a rider preparing his wyvern.

Leon sat upon the wyvern, his back straight, reins in hand as Zero fiddled with the saddle buckle. Then he gazed to the side—to where Camilla was waiting upon her own wyvern. Camilla didn't return his gaze, her attentions fixed upon Velka. Yet still, Leon kept glancing toward her as if for once she might look back.

 _I know him_ , thought Takumi, vindicated.

Ryouma said, “Let us be off.”

They headed for their journey's end: the Infinite Chasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, long time no see, sorry. 
> 
> I was somewhat mentally out of commission for a year from when I posted the last chapter--I wrote a bunch but very few of the original scenes actually survived editing--and then in April of this year I started traveling full-time. Everything takes a bit longer to accomplish on the road--I only get stuff done when I stop traveling for a bit ~~and resist the urge to play Overwatch~~. The majority of this chapter consists of rewritten scenes done in libraries and other peoples' apartments and sometimes in the back of my car. Nonetheless, I accomplished more in four months in libraries than in a year in the comfort of my home, so arguably I have my head back and update times from now won't be quite so ridiculous.
> 
> The next chapter has been drafted out and just needs some key revisions, but I should hold onto it until I've finished Ch 23, because Ch 22 ends at a point where I don't want to leave you hanging if writing 23 takes awhile (which it could). And then after that, there's one more chapter and this massive giant fic will be done. I originally planned to rewrite the earlier chapters/update this to use the English names/etc. but now I don't think I'll be doing that. I've lost a lot of interest in fandom.
> 
> This might be the last piece of fanfiction I write. Maybe someday we'll meet each other again on the original side.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter. I wanted to make sure that the ending to this gigantic fic delivered all the right payoffs and it took awhile to get it right. Sorry about the wait.
> 
> (Thanks to moonboots for beta.)


	22. Winter at the Infinite Chasm (Part 1)

The land under their wings became increasingly barren as the Chasm cracked across the horizon. They turned and headed north alongside it. What began as a dark and jagged crack in the morning became wide and shadowy as the sun crept toward the bottom of the sky. As they searched for a place to make camp that night, they spotted an odd circle of white in the mountains.

“Wait,” Hinoka called out, “I'll investigate. Hang back.”

They slowed their mounts to a tread as Hinoka led a small party of retainers to scout ahead. Takumi figured that the ring—located near the base of the mountains, and scribed neatly in a circle without regard to the curvature of the land—must be manmade. Perhaps someone was trying to signal something to the air. A stranded earthquake survivor? But how did they make that circle?

The figure of Hinoka's distant pegasus came back quickly, and she called, “All clear. It's Jakob and Felicia.”

Of course—the ice tribe's power. Felicia must have made some snow. The answer was so pleasing that it took Takumi a moment to wonder what Nohrian wait-staff was doing out here to begin with. He looked to the Nohrians for a cue, but nothing was audible over the sound of wingbeats before they proceeded to fly in. 

It seemed that the well-traveled servants had chosen a spot that might make a decent camp. Given the snow, there must have been some source of water. And it was less than an hour's flight away from the bridge where they had once descended into the other world, soon to be the site of their ritual. This seemed to be a place they could set up for the night.

Marx, dismounting, approached the two of them. Their conversation was just quiet enough that Takumi could hear their voices but not their words. Takumi dismounted and beckoned his retainers to come take his kite.

But Oboro and Hinata weren't paying attention. It seemed that they hadn't noticed his gesture at all. Annoyed, Takumi brought the kite over to them.

“—surprised. Just surprised. It doesn't mean—” Oboro said, cutting off as she noticed Takumi approach them. Then she put on a smile, and as Hinata noticed him, he followed suit.

Irked, Takumi said, “You don't have to do that.”

“Do what?” Oboro said. 

Takumi mimicked their expressions. “That. —It's not like I don't know.” After all, Hinata had attempted (and failed) to kiss Oboro right in front of him.

This time it was Hinata who said, “Don't know what?”

Takumi looked between Oboro and Hinata, both looking uncomfortable, and gave up with a simple, “Okay, just take my kite and set up my tent.”

“Sure thing, milord,” Hinata agreed promptly, taking the reins.

“Um,” Oboro said, drawing their attention, and seemingly hating that she had to do so. “Unfortunately, we need to discuss tenting arrangements with the others. We had planned for your king brother and yourself to share a tent, but...”

“But?”

Oboro and Hinata both glanced in the same direction. Takumi followed their gaze to find Rinka—the last-minute addition to their party—hefting a water jug over one shoulder. “Oh. And no one remembered to add an extra tent.”

“We're planning to ask the other retainers if they would consent to giving up a tent for milord—”

“What about Nohr? They have the same number of mounts but fewer people. Do they have spares?” Takumi said before he realized what he was saying.

Hinata looked at Oboro, whose face said she obviously did not ask Nohr for favors and would never have done so of her own accord.

“Go find out,” Takumi ordered. “If they have room for one more person, I can share with Prince Leon.” Then he plopped the reins into Hinata's hand and went to see what was happening.

As he walked away from his retainers, he had a brief moment of panic—Was he being too obvious? He wasn't, right? They were pressed for room, and Leon was known to be his friend.—that led to ironic laughter at himself. _“You don't have to do that. It's not like I don't know.”_ Shouldn't his retainers have figured it out by now? He wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed they hadn't as he approached the small crowd that had formed, finding a spot to stand by Ryouma.

“—quelled the insurrection and captured several soldiers for questioning. We came to warn Your Highnesses to exercise caution as you return home. We brought reports of the situation from the captain at the scene and advisers from the court.”

Jakob offered a bundle of letters to Marx. Marx took them, saying as he did, “Even so, we should return as soon as our business is finished here. You have my thanks for delivering this message. We'll be counting on you to help us return safely.”

Felicia fidgeted. Jakob glanced at her, and bracing himself said, “Your Highness... we ask that you grant us the favor of dismissing us from service.”

Marx furrowed his brow. “Why?”

Seeing that he'd come too late and missed the heart of the matter, Takumi looked to Ryouma for an explanation. Ryouma caught Takumi's eye, gave the others a silent bow, and turned away as he gestured for Takumi to follow him. 

“We wish to join Kamui, Your Highness,” he heard Jakob say as they left the group behind them. “We've realized... that staying... ...great a sacrifice as....”

Takumi supposed this had happened before. Jakob and Felicia had made this journey during their last quest to save the world, one even trekking out alone to the Chasm to join Kamui.

Leading him out to the quiet perimeter of the camp, Ryouma told him, “It seems the warring factions in Chevalier declared a truce, then brought their full force against the Nohrian guard stationed in the region.”

Piecing together what he'd heard, Takumi said, “But it was brought under control?” Ryouma nodded, the world coming into shadow as the sun fell below the mountains.

“Still, such frequent challenges to Nohrian rule spell trouble. This is the third time in the last decade,” he said. “I imagine they sense opportunity in the new regime. King Garon barely held the region with unflinching use of force; King Marx lacks his taste for blood.”

“I should hope so,” Takumi said.

“Indeed.” Although Ryouma kept his gaze looking forward, his face impassive, Takumi sensed that they were together on this: That they wanted the world to remain as it was, with their own nation secure in the east and the west under the control of a sure ally. That given a choice, Chevalier could be friend or foe to Hoshido—that had been proven years ago. That it would be better for Chevalier to remain under Nohrian control. “But one who rules in King Marx's manner cannot keep Chevalier.”

And it was unthinkable for King Marx to follow in the footsteps of his father. The world had suffered too much by Garon's hand. 

Their walk took them along a tiny stream of water, perhaps fed by the year's last snowmelt, barely visible from more than a few paces away. Takumi and Ryouma simultaneously grunted, “Hunh.”

“Protected from the elements by the mountains, and next to a source of fresh water,” Takumi mused.

“Well done,” Ryouma said of the location, though the servants couldn't hear his praise. Following the arc of the stream, they turned back toward camp.

It didn't escape Takumi's notice that the situation in Chevalier had echoes in his own nation's troubles with Fuuma. Their father, King Sumeragi, had been too gentle to do what his predecessors would have done: run through Fuuma with the military and claim it as his own. And now Fuuma was a problem left for Takumi's generation to solve. Part of him thought that, if the world were not watching, it seemed much simpler if they could indeed simply conquer Fuuma and rule it for themselves.

As they re-entered the noisy bustle of the camp, Ryouma said to him, “Well, this is Nohr's crisis to face. Let us be diligent so that Fuuma and Kouga never bring us so much trouble. I'll be counting on you.”

Their walk came to an end in the midst of half-pitched tents. Takumi said, “Thank you.” He still wasn't sure how he felt about his assignment.

Oboro broke his train of thought, bowing as she approached—polite in the presence of the king—saying, “Prince Leon agreed to share his tent.”

Ryouma raised his eyebrows and said, “You'll be staying with Nohr?” not knowing that he liquefied Takumi's insides with those words.

Divine intervention brought forth Rinka, who appeared and said, “Yes,” playfully punching Ryouma's arm, “because you're staying with me. Let's go get supper.”

Now that Rinkah mentioned it, the scent of Nohrian spices hung in the air. “The evening meal has been prepared,” Oboro told Takumi. And even though he wasn't in the mood for Nohrian food, his stomach was empty after a day of traveling and a simple lunch.

They followed the others to the mess tent—already set up before their arrival, with a long canvas table and (unfortunately) chairs—where Jakob proudly assembled plates of gourmet food for them to feast upon. Somehow, he had managed to make a meal befitting royalty out here in the wilds without a proper kitchen. But then, Takumi expected no less from Jakob.

Takumi sat next to Ryouma, waiting politely for his siblings. He tried to make himself comfortable in the odd chair, which squeaked a bit as he moved. Rinka dug in with her bare hands, declaring, “We're in the mountains!” and abandoning any pretense of manners.

Hinoka and Sakura arrived in short order, exclaiming about the food. They sat opposite them, chairs squeaking, and Takumi had reached for his chopsticks when Sakura mentioned, “Should we wait for Aqua?”

“Of course,” Ryouma said.

Takumi silently berated himself for forgetting about his other sister so soon before her departure. She had been absent for so long that when Takumi sat down at a dinner table (even one improvised from tightly stretched canvas) he no longer expected her to be there.

By the time Rinka had finished stuffing a roasted game bird into her mouth—crunching through its tiny bones as Takumi's stomach grumbled—he finally heard an airy, “Hello,” from behind him.

“Sister!” Sakura chirped. 

As Takumi twisted around to look at her, Aqua flinched back, narrowly avoiding the Fuujin-yumi still strapped to Takumi's back. “—Sorry.”

“No, excuse me,” Aqua said, circling around to join his other sisters on their side of the table. Jakob seamlessly swooped in and set a plate and napkin-covered bundle before her as she did.

“You'll have to forgive him,” Hinoka said to her. “I'm sure you remember, Takumi brings his bow everywhere.”

“The tents aren't even set up yet,” Takumi pointed out. “Where would I put it?”

Hinoka shrugged. “My lances are with the rest of our weapons and armor under Kagerou's watch.”

“Your lances aren't a divine heirloom!” he protested, glancing to Ryouma's sword belt as he did. “No one's telling our brother to leave his sword in the armory.”

“Hey, I was just teasing,” Hinoka said. Takumi huffed and stabbed at his roasted bird with his chopsticks. “—Besides, Brother hasn't hit anyone in the face.” She shared a grin with Aqua. 

Aqua bit back a laugh and looked down into her plate as she evened the ends of her chopsticks against the napkin. “It's all right,” she said.

“See? Aqua can move on,” Takumi said.

“It's all right,” Aqua repeated, and Takumi supposed that now he was the one drawing out the joke about himself. “I'm glad that this dinner can be so normal.”

When she said that, a hush fell over their table as they realized that it would be their last dinner with Aqua—no longer so normal. Takumi stared at the sour red berries on his plate, trying to think of what had to be said to Aqua before she left, and therefore failing to converse with her at all.

“Elise,” Aqua called.

Elise and Camilla were coming toward the mess tent, and Aqua beckoned for them to join them. Elise smiled in acceptance, and holding Camilla's hand, she came over next to Aqua. Felicia frantically rushed over to pull the chair next to Aqua out for Elise.

“I'm sorry I'm always so clumsy,” Felicia mumbled to her.

Elise looked at her quizzically as she sat, saying, “It's fine.” Indeed, Takumi thought, it was bizarre for Felicia to apologize for messing up absolutely nothing when she was usually messing up absolutely everything.

Jakob came with their plates of food and set it before them. Felicia bowed fervently, repeating, “I'm sorry!” 

As she did, the tips of her hair brushed against the food on Elise's plate. Giving her food a look, Elise repeated, “It's fine,” as Jakob scolded Felicia and ushered her from the table.

Aqua reached over with her chopsticks and lifted a pink hair from Elise's plate, disposing of it on the ground between them. The two of them shared a smile, and Elise delicately lifted her fork and knife. But for the slight tremor visible through her fork, her movements seemed almost graceful. On the other side of Aqua, Sakura kept her eyes on her plate as she ate her meal.

“You're starting to look like a real lady of the court,” Azura said to Elise.

Elise replied, “Thanks. I've been practicing,” with only a hint of disappointment at the implication that she had been childish before. “Camilla's tips help a lot.”

Camilla smiled and said, “It almost makes me miss my sweet little girl.”

At that, Elise looked at Camilla with a hint of longing—the moment trampled by Hinoka, who joined the conversation with a sympathetic, “I know what you mean. They're always cuter before they grow up.”

Takumi felt vaguely insulted.

“Hey,” Elise said as she looked contemplatively at the cut of meat at the end of her fork, “do you think you'll ever come back and visit again?”

Aqua hesitated. She looked at Elise—then past Elise, trading glances with Camilla.

“I don't know if we can, darling,” said Camilla.

Looking straight at Camilla, unafraid of making dinner unpleasant, Elise said, “Then why are you leaving?”

As Camilla's eye flicked over to them, her expression betrayed something other than the poisonous-sweet persona that was all Takumi had ever seen from her. “Now Elise, that's hardly something to dredge up over a nice farewell dinner.”

Food in one cheek, looking as petulant as she did at twelve, she retorted, “I wouldn't have to if you'd talked earlier.”

“Let her be,” Aqua said quietly. “She must have her reasons. It's never a decision made lightly.”

Elise looked at her, then at the Hoshidan table that sat eating in silence, perhaps aware that Camilla wouldn't speak in front of all of them. Maybe she'd antagonized Camilla just to drag the question into the open—Takumi might've done the same in her place.

“Are you... going to eat that?”

Seeming uncharacteristically embarrassed, Rinka pointed a greasy finger at the untouched bird on Sakura's plate. Sakura shook her head and held out her plate for Rinka to take it. Rinka offered her an untouched heap of rice and berries in return.

“The berries are really sour,” Sakura remarked, accepting just the rice.

“They are well-paired with the main course of rich, savory meat,” Ryouma said, and Takumi's shoulders relaxed as the new topic took hold at the table.

Hinoka nodded, saying, “Like pickled plums. But drier.”

“Jakob remembered to bring those Nohrian root vegetables.” Takumi gestured at the heap of white starch on Elise's plate. “Why couldn't we get pickled plums?”

Wrinkling her nose at him, Elise said, “Well, I think it's nice he brought rice all this way just for you guys. And I think he just found these berries. I don't know what they are.”

Takumi stopped chewing for a moment, trying to taste for poison through the sourness.

“They're bog berries,” Camilla said, fingering the red berries to her sensual lips. “You can find them in the swamps this time of year.”

And then came Leon's voice: “—I'll take the letters from the lower members of the court and think upon the situation.”

Marx and Leon walked into the mess tent, and Takumi's delight at having Leon back with them was quickly tempered by discomfort as Camilla broke eye contact with everyone to stare into the distance, and Elise glared at Leon as he found his way to the table.

Leon put a bundle of papers into his satchel as he sat down across from his sisters. He glanced at his sisters, and then almost as if chagrined, looked down at his food and kept his gaze there.

Something seemed strange about that. Takumi couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Leon's reaction to Camilla didn't seem right for having told her about his relationship with Takumi this morning.

Either way, Takumi would finally have a chance to talk to Leon after dinner. And then he would know what happened.

Next to Rinka, Marx cleared his throat. “Thank you for the evening's meal, Jakob. The excellence of your work is unparalleled.”

“Thank you, milord.”

Marx was almost comically composed as he held down the bird with the fork and delicately cut off a shaving of meat with his knife. Across from Takumi, Sakura held her chopsticks against the plate, not bothering to pick up another mouthful of rice. He couldn't blame her for losing her appetite. He didn't really want the rest of the stuff on his plate, either.

“I want to tell you...” Aqua said. Everyone turned to her, and perhaps uncomfortable with that, she picked awkwardly at her rice. “I want to explain what will happen tomorrow.”

So she _could_ safely explain? It was odd she hadn't done so when she called them all to this journey. Perhaps she just wasn't accustomed to giving explanations at all.

“Where we're going, there are twin pairs of Dragon Veins along the rim. The ones in this world can open the Gate, when so ordered by those of the blood of the First Dragons. However, it requires a great deal of energy. That is why I asked for all of you.”

Surely that wasn't all that she would explain. The question of _why_ still lingered in the air. Aqua poked at her rice a few more times, then set her chopsticks down upon her plate. 

“Kamui has been showing some troubling signs. Fits of unusual anger. Taking dragon form in the midst of sleep. The servants say Hydra showed the same in the beginning.”

_Hydra._ The mad god, the one who brought them to perpetual war. How could Kamui be anything like him? But they knew what Aqua spoke of. Takumi and his siblings had seen the scene after their mother was slain, with Kamui the dragon running feral in the courtyard.

Takumi set down his chopsticks. It didn't seem right to be eating.

“Kamui wouldn't—can't...” Hinoka protested.

“We have been trying to find other means to stop it,” Aqua said. “There is so much we don't know. Why did Hydra succumb to it, when he had taken the precaution of sealing his power into a stone? We thought that Kamui's human blood would serve as protection—why has it not? And why has it worsened so quickly, when Hydra's madness was kept at bay by song for centuries?” Aqua shook her head. “Kamui and I spoke many times, and on one thing we are agreed: We must have the means to awaken the Yato-no-kami without endangering this world.”

Did they think the Yato-no-kami might restore Kamui's mind? Or—more likely—they had agreed to safeguard the world even should it cost Kamui's life. So Aqua came here to retrieve the other holy weapons—to take the Fuujin-yumi from him—so that a new mad god might someday be slain on the other side.

“My poor Kamui,” Camilla said, “having to bear the weight of the world.”

What a martyr, that Kamui. It almost made Takumi mad. _Don't we all bear the weight of the world?_ Takumi thought to himself. _Isn't that what we're doing right now?_

How dare Kamui be so self-sacrificing when Takumi wasn't done feeling wronged about what happened with their mother?

“Surely it wouldn't come to that?” Hinoka said. “There must be other ways, without having to sacrifice Kamui's life.”

“There may be. We are not certain,” Aqua said, brushing hair away from her face. “Please understand. I do not wish for my cousin to be slain. We merely want the comfort of knowing that history will not repeat itself should worst come to worst.”

Takumi threw a glance at Ryouma, who had set his chopsticks down out of politeness, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. He wondered if it had ever occurred to Ryouma that history would repeat itself through Hoshido's ruin. If it did, Ryouma as ever gave no sign.

“And once I have returned to Touma, I will close the gates again, to seal away whatever may come.” Aqua looked to Elise, as if asking, _Do you understand now, why I must leave?_

Elise stuck her fork in her mouth and looked at Camilla, as if to say, _But what about you?_

Camilla gave her a smile. “Now you know, Elise. My dear Kamui is unwell.”

“How can that be your reason when you didn't even know that until now?” Elise countered.

“Let her be, Elise,” Leon said in a low voice. Elise glared at him but only scooped up and ate another bite of her mash. Takumi didn't know if he was more surprised that Elise held back, or that Leon had even risked her wrath on Camilla's behalf.

Takumi glanced at the little bones, smears of berry juice, and scattered clumps of rice on his plate. The rice didn't look appetizing. He wished this awkward dinner could just be over so he could talk to Leon.

In fact, it appeared that few of them had much of an appetite despite how little they'd eaten earlier that day. Rinka had finished, of course, since the want of her hunger could not be dissuaded by any amount of unpleasantness. But besides her, only Marx had finished everything, leaving only a neatly cleaned pile of bones and a tint of red juice on his plate. Thinking back, Takumi hadn't heard him say anything. The Nohrian king had only eaten bite after mechanical bite with solemn dignity. If Leon seemed adept at keeping his discomfort hidden, it was only because his act was imperfect enough for Takumi to suspect. His older brother, it seemed, had mastered the art—complete control over mind and body, every last organ down to his stomach.

“It was excellent, Jakob,” Marx said.

(Or, Takumi supposed, maybe Marx just found dinner to be incredibly delicious?)

“Agreed,” said Ryouma. “We appreciate the trouble you've gone through to prepare such a good meal.”

“Please, pay me no mind,” demurred Jakob as he collected Marx's plate and utensils.

“Thanks for the meal,” Sakura said. Relieved that dinner was finally wrapping up, Takumi echoed, _Thanks for the meal,_ along with the rest of them. He dropped his napkin on his plate and looked over to find that Leon had silently left the table. 

“Elise,” Marx said as he wiped his fingers in his napkin and rose, “come by my tent when you're finished.” Elise scowled at Marx as he left and continued to pick at her food.

Spotting Leon at the edge of the tent, Takumi rose and caught up to him. Hearing his footsteps, Leon glanced back at him. “I'm going to wash off, if you don't mind,” Leon said.

“Oh.” Takumi stopped. _I'll join you_ was at the tip of his tongue but he knew Leon wouldn't appreciate that. All Takumi wanted was to talk to him again, but it seemed that all Leon wanted was some time alone. Hopefully, Takumi thought, if he gave Leon some space now, later they could talk at night when they would inevitably be together. “I'll meet you at our tent, then.”

Leon made an ambiguous sound as he left.

* * *

After his own turn with the washcloth and basin, Takumi found his way to Leon's tent. No guard stood watch until he had come with Hinata—somehow, he was there before Leon. The tent had been tidily made, with a futon for Takumi and something similar for Leon atop a nice blue wool rug covering the floor. A lantern in one corner had already been lit in anticipation of their arrival, illuminating their bags arranged at the other end of the tent.

His stomach somewhat full and his body reasonably clean, Takumi made himself comfortable in his futon. He laid there, watching the light flicker against the pitched ceiling of the tent, thinking of what he wanted to ask Leon. 

What had happened with Camilla? At dinner they avoided eye contact. Had Camilla, for some reason, rejected him after his revelation? Considering that Camilla seemed to have her hands all over Velka, Takumi had imagined that she would be perfectly fine with Leon liking men and it would be a valuable step toward him learning to open up. If anything, Leon seemed more tense that morning when he had returned to the group after meeting with Camilla. Yet it didn't feel like the anger of outright rejection. Nor did he react any differently to the sight of Takumi, as he would if he had been shamed again. 

So it seemed like she had neither accepted nor rejected him. Takumi had no idea what could've happened.

Trying to think of what Leon might be thinking, his minded wandered to the story of Brynhildr he'd newly learned. He didn't believe Claire, but even so—it fit too well with what else he knew, about Leon's brother being poisoned by blue acid, about Claire's exile from what Saizou had told him... even with what Leon had told him about his mother. It made sense in some awful unfeeling way, just like Kamui's impending madness.

—Ah. (His thoughts leapt back.) It was obvious, wasn't it? Leon probably hadn't told Camilla at all.

Sounds from outside the tent pierced through his disappointment. Takumi thought Leon was coming, but the tent flap remained motionless as voices drifted through the air. It sounded like Marx greeting Elise, who must have finally gotten around to their meeting.

Takumi realized that if he wanted to have a conversation with Leon upon his return, it would be better if he weren't already in bed. 

Takumi drew back the covers, found his sash by his pillow, fixed his clothes, and sat primly on top of his futon instead. This way, he figured, it showed Leon that he had been waiting. Attentive. Focused on the topic at hand.

Did Leon back down from telling Camilla? Takumi suspected so. But, he decided, he wouldn't start with that assumption. He'd trust in Leon first. After all, hadn't they learned that that was the important thing? To trust in each other and talk things out? Takumi did have a habit of imagining things to be worse than they were, after all. Once he had a chance to talk to Leon, perhaps it would lay all this speculation to rest.

The night was quiet. Marx's and Elise's voices had ceased to carry from the neighboring tent. The lingering moisture from his towel bath had completely dried from Takumi's skin. Takumi wondered how much longer Leon would take.

There were voices again outside, the rumbling of Zero's voice, words indistinguishable. Takumi sat up straighter as the flap moved, Leon's exasperated voice floating in, “You can both stand guard. Quietly.”

Leon came into the tent in his nightrobes, letters in one hand. Takumi said, “Hey.”

Distractedly, Leon glanced at Takumi and said, “Good evening.” He made a gesture at the ceiling and all sound from outside suddenly cut into silence. Magic, Takumi supposed. Soundproofing for his dirty little secret. Then Leon went to the lantern in the corner, reading a letter and running a hand through his hair.

Something about that moment struck Takumi as a perfect encapsulation of their relationship: looking all day for Leon, who once more only met him in the cover of night, who still kept his face turned away from him and his eyes on messages of disaster.

Takumi shook the thought away. He was worrying too much. He was seeing things.

“So,” Takumi ventured, reminding Leon of his presence.

Leon dwelt on the letter before him for a moment longer. Then he slipped that one back into the middle of the stack, as if to bury it, before looking over his shoulder at Takumi with a “Mm?”

Takumi couldn't help but look curiously at the stack of letters. Leon glanced at the stack and answered his unspoken question with, “Eirene wrote a report.” 

Leon dropped the letters back into his satchel and set it on the floor. At the sight of Takumi's expression, he said, “It's just politics. She thinks we should grant Chevalier its independence,” in a tone of voice that clearly said _stop being so sensitive._

Takumi shrugged as if it didn't really bother him, although it did—both Eirene, and the suggestion of letting Chevalier go rogue. But that wasn't what he wanted to hear about from Leon. “How did your talk with Camilla go?”

“Fine,” Leon said quietly, going over to sit upon his futon. He shrugged off the outermost layer of his nightrobes, gave them a quick fold, and set them by his pillow.

“Fine?” Takumi echoed.

Leon's body was still, his face turned away from Takumi, toward the lantern in the corner. After a moment he said, “Are you done with the light?”

“What?”

“I'm going to bed. Should I blow out the lantern?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Leon rose to his feet, went to the corner to blow out the lantern, and shuffled back to his futon in the dark. The sounds of Leon arranging himself under the blankets carried over to Takumi, who remaining sitting with noble posture, as if still attuned, still waiting for something.

“Leon, what did she say?”

In the emptiness of the dark, Takumi's eyes had found a sliver of moonlight that slipped through the gaps in the tent's entrance. He wondered how Leon's spell could seal all sound in their tent when the light and air of the outside world still touched its fingers into their nest. He wondered why Leon would not speak when he could not help but leak pain at the seams. Why did Leon continue to hide the truth?

A minute must have passed and Leon had not responded. Takumi had begun to wonder if he would give any response at all, when finally, Leon said, “Takumi, I just want to sleep.”

Takumi looked upon the faint outline of Leon's blanket-covered back and had the premonition that this topic, at least, was over—he would never learn what happened. _When will you ever open up to me?_ Tomorrow would be the last night they would spend together before parting again. After that, would Leon go back to sending him letters that talked about tomatoes and his child like nothing had ever happened?

Sitting there, Takumi started to feel a little chilly. He undid his sash and got under the covers. His rustling ceased. Silence returned, sudden and heavy. Takumi scratched at his nose to feel surer of his own presence. 

Leon may as well not have been there. Or rather, his presence was just enough to make Takumi feel self-conscious.

What did Leon want from him? Thousands of times he'd told Takumi to leave, only to thank him for staying instead. Yet something about this time seemed different. To all the world he played his part—going docilely to his tent, staying there for the night, making no move to flee. This time, he was hiding from Takumi, the one whom he had let into his tent.

Laying there on his stomach, Takumi's shoulders and head felt heavy in his weariness. It seemed to Takumi that every time he tried to tell himself that he was worrying too much, his worries turned out to be well-founded. What did it mean, that he worried too much, that he was too sensitive, or any of the rest of it—what did it really mean if every time life proved that he had been right to worry, that it wouldn't be all right?

Frustration leaked through his eyes and into his pillow. True, it was a difficult time for Leon, with Camilla seemingly about to leave—like it had been difficult leading up to his wedding, and then after with Elise's attempted suicide. Everything might be fine if things were better for Leon, but when would that be? Another mess with Chevalier waited right around the corner. If Takumi stuck with Leon, he might catch a few snatches of fleeting happiness in between years and years like these, longing, hurting. It was like living in suspension, with the course of his life floating in the current of Leon's moods.

_I guess either way I'm going to Kouga,_ Takumi thought as sleepiness began to steal his thoughts. No matter whether Leon loved him or ignored him or needed him or not, in the spring he would be working to stabilize the south. That would be that.

That would be—what?

The end?

_I don't want it to end._

It was just a relocation. Did that mean it would end? It probably wouldn't.

And yet... if it ended, perhaps that would be...

* * *

In the morning he woke up to the soft light filtering through the canvas, sleepily illuminating the little tent. Next to him, Leon had buried half his face in his futon to escape the chilly morning air, his fine hair catching light glowing-like where it had been made unruly through the night. A faint whiff of mint was present in the air, with only the scent of mountain earth underneath, for they were clean and dry.

And Takumi thought, _What in the world was I thinking? I love him. Everything is finally going right._

* * *

Up close, the Infinite Chasm—with its harsh cliffs of rock, descending forever downward in juts and splinters of rock as if the earth had been torn open—was as impressive a sight as the first time they had stared down into its depths, working up the courage to jump. This time it seemed even more tremendous, with ropes and planks dangling from its cliffs down into its gaping maw, no bridges spared from the force of the gate's opening.

“There,” called Aqua from the head of their party. She turned her pegasus around in the air, pointing to the ground below them. Takumi could make out five veins on each side of the rim, their glow faintly visible with the sun yet to emerge from behind the mountains. Despite the warmth of Leon at his back, the wind was chilly on Takumi's cheeks as he wondered how those Veins—counting Aqua and Kamui—matched the size of their families perfectly. “I shall collect your weapons once the gate is open. For now, keep them to bolster your concentration.”

“I'll drop you off on your side,” Takumi said to Leon over the roar of wind.

“Hm?”

“I'll drop you off on the western side,” Takumi repeated, “since there aren't any bridges left.”

“All right,” said Leon. He seemed groggy that morning. Knowing that Leon was often moody when he was groggy, Takumi had decided against trying to initiate any serious conversation with him when they had set out from camp. And yet all throughout the flight, he couldn't help but rehearse in his mind: _Leon, this is the last day we have together. We don't know when we'll get to see each other again. Please talk to me._ (No, strike that, it sounded girly and desperate.) _Leon, we're each going home tomorrow. Leon, we're headed separate ways tomorrow._ (Yeah, that sounded nice.) _Before we leave—Before we part—Before we leave for home, we should—_

As his kite touched down on the Nohrian side, Takumi blurted, “Hey, Leon?”

“Yes?”

“This is the last day we have together. Before we leave each other, I thought we should talk about—figure out where we're going from here.”

Leon raised his eyebrows at him and replied, “Does something need to be figured out?”

“Yes,” Takumi said, before realizing that he had no idea how to put it into words. “You know, with being so far away, and seeing each other a few times a year at most. And with your, um. Family.” He risked the confusion with Marx and Camilla and Elise so he didn't have to say _wife and child_.

“I was under the impression we'd already talked about that. I asked you, in fact.”

“What? When?”

“Sunrise at the edge of the Wind Tribe village.”

Takumi tried to think of anything they had said about their future that morning. He remembered talking about trust and old resentments but he didn't remember a single promise about the future—and in fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure they had even agreed upon anything other than that they wanted their relationship back, they wanted things to work.

“I don't think we did,” Takumi said. Leon looked at him darkly, swung his legs around to one side of the kite, and dismounted. Not wanting to fight with Leon, not now, not again, Takumi watched him go. 

Zero and Claire gawked at them from where they had dismounted. There was something exceptionally humiliating about that, being gawked at by a prisoner with one wrist bound to her captor, and Leon must have felt the same, for he whipped around to confront her.

“You _will_ be held accountable for your crimes against the crown. And you'll tell us everything you know about Chevalier.”

Claire looked at him innocently. “I know nothing, dear brother.”

“We'll see about that,” Leon said, flashing her a toothy smile. Claire's expression flickered as Zero raised his eyebrows. Leon went to his Vein, and Takumi decided he was done on the western side and bade the kite to fly back over to the east. He flew it over to the scrawny tree where the other Hoshidan mounts were tied, secured it there, and went over to where his retainers had already gathered at his Vein.

“Do you know when we start?” Takumi asked them.

“Princess Aqua will tell us, I believe,” Oboro said, pointing up to where Aqua circled on her pegasus in the air, watching them take their positions. Takumi nodded, killing time by lining up his feet neatly with the Vein.

On the other side, Leon stared down into the depths of the Chasm. His bangs moved lightly in a passing draft over his downturned eyes. His only movement was to chew one lip, lost in thought. Behind him, Zero watched Leon as Claire, still tethered to him by the wrist, looked around.

Aqua's pegasus descended, and she left it with the other mounts as she came to the fifth Vein on their side, past Ryouma. Takumi wondered if the divine designer of the gate had intended for Aqua to be on the east, and if that (or Kamui's absence) mattered. 

Aqua waved one hand to alert Marx across the gap. “Are you ready?” she called. “We must invoke the Veins and channel energy into them until the gate has been opened.—Let us begin.”

Takumi closed his eyes and pressed his energy down. The Vein was deep, stretching far, far down—down to where the Chasm opened and closed to the other world, he assumed. It was so deep that he couldn't get a feel for it all. He could imagine exhausting all the energy in his body without opening it. As it was, his energy wobbled and strayed with the irritation still stuck in the back of his mind. He might have lost his focus if not for the steadying presence of the Fuujin-yumi against his back.

“Hey! Nohrians!” he heard Oboro yell, shaking his already strained concentration. Trying not to let go of the Vein, Takumi steeled himself as he opened his eyes. He saw commotion—Claire and Zero struggling. He saw Leon already looking behind him, reaching for Brynhildr. “Do something about your prisoner!”

And then Claire flipped Zero head-first against the ground. She wrested away from him, the rope around her wrist dangling free, grabbing a fallen dagger from the ground. Leon opened Brynhildr, and in that moment Takumi realized that Oboro and Hinata couldn't help, but he could, with his bow—he'd lost his focus on the Vein anyway—and he reached back to grab the Fuujin-yumi from its holster, prepared to do what he should've done a long time ago in Chevalier.

The Fuujin-yumi in his hand, Takumi summoned the bowstring—in the edges of his vision, he saw Effie and Harold coming to help from one side, and Camilla and Velka from the other—and called an arrow, taking aim as magic shone bright about Leon's hand—

Claire dove straight at Leon. Brynhildr's illusory tree rose from where she'd been standing only a split second ago as she knocked him to the ground, rolling, Brynhildr knocked to the side, perilously close to the Chasm, and Takumi couldn't fire in fear of skewering Leon as they struggled. She'd brought the dagger close to Leon's neck, where he held it off with one bare bleeding hand. Then Leon flipped them over and he slammed her against the ground, shoving her dagger arm far to the side.

“Hurry,” Leon screamed to the others, panting, blood gushing from his hand as he pinned Claire's dagger hand with his forearm. Zero picked himself up unsteadily to his feet. Takumi's hand trembled as he tried to gauge whether he could take the shot, with Leon's head not a foot away from Claire's. No—no need to risk blowing Leon's head apart—Camilla and Velka could help as soon as they finished running over.

Then there was a burst of light, in the form of a gnarled tree springing out from under them, blowing Leon away as it vanished. Leon rolled twice—his hip went past the edge of the cliff—he grappled for the edge with his forearms—his body swung as his legs fell—and in the split second it took for Takumi to register that this was all real, Leon's elbows gave way to his hands and in a slick of blood he dropped.


	23. Winter at the Infinite Chasm (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings [here](https://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/289840.html). Generally speaking, this chapter is **M-rated**.
> 
> Also, just for the record, I made an [organized post](https://amielleon.dreamwidth.org/289351.html) concerning differences between the Japanese and NoA versions of the game (and my own goofs). I made it to replace the hasty notes I used to have at the start of this fic but figured some of you might be interested.
> 
> Sorry this ended up taking over two weeks--I really did have everything except for the last long scene of this chapter written when I posted 22, but said scene took awhile to get right. I actually don't have anything written yet for the epilogue so expect the next update to take a month or two.
> 
> Without further ado, I present to you:

The explosion had knocked him off his feet. He pushed himself off the ground, drew grit into his lungs. Through his coughing and the veil of dust in the air, he saw—as the screaming peasants stampeded away into the streets—two figures lingering in the plaza, across from the robed figure at the center of the blast.

The robed figure flicked his wrist. Debris shot through the air. And in the moment one figure leapt to cover the other—in the very way she leapt, she moved, the length of her hair—Takumi (still seized by coughing, useless) knew it was his mother—

The stones pierced her.

* * *

“He jumped! Heavens above, he jumped!”

“Lord Takumi—Lord Takumi—”

Seized by both elbows, Takumi panicked, whipping his head around. It was his retainers, eyes wide, faces white and strained with fear—and then he remembered what he had seen without seeing, moments ago: A second figure had jumped in after Leon.

Zero. It had to be.

And his retainers feared he might do the same.

Ashamed more than anything—he wasn't half as noble as his retainers thought, he couldn't throw his life away on this, just like he couldn't do anything back then—Takumi said with surreal calm in his voice, “I'm all right. Let go.”

Their hands left his arms. Takumi, unmoving, stared at the rock face of the other side of the Chasm and the dark slick of blood, feeling a bit like he had that spring, looking into Elise's room. Across the Chasm, figures were scrambling about, chasing Claire—did it matter? After all, Leon could be—

Leon _wasn't_ dead yet and there was something he could do.

Takumi plunged his hands into the earth, grasping for the Dragon Vein through the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands, pleading with nature itself to somehow save Leon—to open the bottom of the Chasm or to catch him with nets of earth or anything at all that his dragon blood could coax forth.

Wind whipped around him, lashing his face raw. Dust and silt kicked into the air and Takumi closed his eyes again. There was nothing to see now. He could only hope that this could somehow be enough.

Takumi heard his name. Squinting, he saw Elise on her wyvern over the Chasm, hugging her wyvern's neck as it struggled to stay upright in the wind. “Stop! They're safe! I can get them!”

They were safe? Takumi was afraid to let go, haunted by the feeling that they'd start falling again. Praying that Elise knew what she was doing, he let go of the Vein. Elise and her wyvern dove down into the Chasm and out of sight.

Takumi ran to the edge of the Chasm and peered over. Far, far down, Elise's wyvern was headed for two figures clinging together to the side of the cliff where a rock jutted out. Takumi breathed deep with relief, his legs shaking and his head faint from all the life force he'd jammed into the Vein, and he fell to his knees catching his breath.

“Takumi!” he heard, and looked up to find Hinoka on her pegasus, landing beside him. “Come with me!”

“What?” Takumi panted as Hinoka extended a hand to him. Then he caught sight of Marx and Pieri blocking Claire from the wyverns. She turned, making for the mountains where she could hide and get away.

Takumi took Hinoka's hand, awkwardly climbing onto her pegasus with the Fuujin-yumi still in his other hand. As they took off, Takumi steadied himself against her shoulder as he fumbled to get his bow into shooting position. “How did she get away?” he wondered.

“Head start,” Hinoka said, expertly gaining on the fugitive, while Camilla and Velka were closing in on the ground. “And she's been blowing back her pursuers with Leon's tome. I don't know how she can use it.”

As if on cue, Claire turned around and sent a tangle of branches at Camilla, who stopped to brace herself as Velka, beside her, was knocked off her feet. Claire stumbled in recoil before taking off.

“She sucks at it,” Takumi muttered bitterly as he called a string and arrow and took aim. Hinoka should've known what Brynhildr did in the right hands. Now if only her pegasus could fly smoother—like a kite—he could shoot her through the heart and put an end to her struggling.

For a moment the pegasus stopped flapping and glided. Takumi took the shot.

His arrow of wind flew through the air and blasted through Claire's left shoulder. Brynhildr fell to the ground behind her. Stumbling, she only spared it a glance, before clutching her shoulder and continuing to run around a ridge of rock, out of sight.

“Go, go,” Takumi urged, forming another arrow as Hinoka veered left to put her back in their sights. Camilla and Velka had nearly caught up to her, but Takumi no longer wanted to take chances with Claire—it was comical, really, how difficult it was for their entire band of elite soldiers to stop a single prisoner. To their right, Elise's wyvern was slowly coming to join them, struggling to carry its three riders.

As they turned, Claire came back into view. Takumi drew his arrow, aimed roughly for her back, and fired. The wind arrow tore through her thigh and disappeared, letting her blood gush freely through the wound. She caught herself against the wall of rock next to her to keep from falling, finally unable to run any longer.

Slowly, Claire turned around to face her pursuers. For the first time, her expression was ugly, pained, her pretty features contorted with despair as she screamed at the top of her lungs, “ _My mother was innocent!_ ”

And Takumi would have shot her right through the heart at that moment if Camilla had not blocked his line of sight as she came up to Claire, slowing to a walk, stopping in front of her. _What are you doing? Kill her!_ She must've been talking to Claire, inaudible to Takumi over the wingbeats of Hinoka's pegasus.

“Wait!” someone shrieked. “Don't!”

Claire flinched back. Then Camilla hefted her axe and swung it down on Claire's chest with full force. Claire's body crumpled to the ground. As if lost in thought, Camilla stood there, looking down at her.

“Wait!” Elise screamed again, as if the deed weren't already done. Her wyvern landed abruptly, stumbling to keep its balance—Leon and Zero winced—and Elise gingerly climbed off, staff in hand, tottering over awkwardly to all but throw herself upon Claire's body.

“What is going on?” Hinoka muttered, keeping a little distance between them as she landed her own pegasus. Takumi shook his head as he put his bow back into its holster. Velka seemed to not know either as she stood by in Camilla's shadow.

“Now Elise, what are you doing?” said Camilla in an unknowing echo.

Elise, hunched over Claire's chest with her staff glowing at full brightness, said in a small voice, “She's our sister.”

“Is she?” Camilla stood her axe against the ground and looked between Elise and Claire. “Has she looked after you? Supported you? Cared for you?”

“She's our sister.”

Camilla tilted her head and gave a stilted smile, a mixture of disgust and adoration at her innocent little sister's naivete. “She isn't one to repay the favor, love. With some, it's best to let go.”

Elise gave no reply. Her staff continued to glow, her full attention with Claire. But Takumi noticed as Leon went to Brynhildr where it had fallen. With a bloody hand over his ribs, he gingerly picked it off of the ground. When he rose his eyes were placid, his magic gathering around him.

Takumi recognized that look—the coldness that overtook Leon when he was ready to kill. Feeling almost as if he weren't there, as if he were merely audience to a play, he could not say a thing as he watched Leon approach the others huddled around Claire.

“Stand down, Elise,” he said.

Without looking at him, she murmured, “No.”

His voice cold and decisive, Leon said, “She incited rebellion, kidnapped and tortured you. And she just tried to kill me.” He opened Brynhildr, drawing his magic into a bright swell around the tome. “She's an eyesore and a disgrace. And she deserves to die. Stand aside.”

Elise had a look at him then, and spread her arms between Leon and Claire—blood all over her hands and the sleeves of her dress—as if to make it clear that she would shield Claire with her own body. “No. Leon, you don't want to do this.”

 _But I do_ , said Leon's eyes. Camilla tried to take Elise's hand and said, “Darling, he's right. Come with me. You don't have to watch.”

“No,” Elise repeated, slipping her hand away, tears running freely from her eyes. Still she fixed her eyes on Leon's, pleading with someone who would never change his mind. “I don't want to lose any more of us.”

“She isn't one of us!” Leon snapped with a sharp hand gesture that made the air thrum with magic. Takumi could've sworn that he saw Claire faintly stir. “She tried to kill us. _She is our enemy._ You weren't there to watch blood murder blood—”

Marx leaned in and murmured something by Leon's ear. Leon whirled on him and shouted in response, “Don't tell me how to think! I'll never regret killing her!”

“There's no need,” Marx said, gesturing to Claire with his chin. “Her wounds are too deep. She is already dead.”

At that, Claire gave a quick convulsion, a cough that spattered more blood across her face and Elise's hair. And another, and another while her pained face split into a grin, until it became apparent that she was laughing, or at least this was what laughter looked like in someone who'd had their chest cleaved apart and incompletely sewn back together. In a panic, Elise brought her staff back to Claire's chest, where its crystal flashed with her magic and faded, like rods did when their target could be healed no more. 

Claire rasped, half her words lost in the wind, “Tell—truth—sister. —Gen—Camilla—poison—mother—”

Elise shook her head. “I don't understand. I don't know what you're trying to tell me. Please don't die.”

Claire's eyes trailed in Camilla's direction, their motion vague. Elise followed her gaze and looked at Camilla, pleading. With a long look at Claire, then a smile, Camilla hefted her axe over her shoulder, saying, “My. Even the dead can't keep secrets,” as she turned her back on them.

Inaudible where Takumi watched, Claire whispered something. In a panic, Elise said, “No! No, you need to tell them yourself.” Claire's arms twitched to life, and she brought her hands ominously upward, and Elise, panicked, took Claire's hands in hers.

Their hands tangled together, pale and bloody both, Claire brought them to her mangled chest. Elise's hands curled atop Claire's, whose hands, palm-down, were splayed over her chest as if in a virginal death pose. Her face oddly blank, Claire closed her eyes. 

There was a bright flash. Elise yelped and flinched back, and Marx protectively moved forward to take her shoulders, as if defending her from a dying viper's last lunge. 

When their eyes had recovered from the blinding light, Elise was not wounded, and Claire did not move. The little girl (or so she seemed right then) shook her torturer's body. There was no response. Takumi understood: Claire had stopped her own heart. Perhaps Elise understood then what Claire had done, or perhaps she had not. But she knew that she had failed. 

As Elise slumped onto Claire's chest, Leon clasped Brynhildr closed. He took a step away from them. But then he glanced toward Camilla, who sat at her Vein staring down into the Chasm, and seemed to change his mind. Instead, he came to the other side of the corpse and sat gingerly, knees before his chest, looking at Elise with tired eyes.

“You didn't kill her, Elise,” he said softly.

Elise's hair rippled as she shook her head. When her face emerged it was flushed with tears and so streaked from blood in varying stages of drying that it was near-unrecognizable. “Why does this have to happen to our family?” she hiccuped.

Leon said nothing, only looking askance. Marx rubbed at her shoulders.

“Why do we have to keep fighting?” she said, her voice uneven and punctuated by sharp gasps for air in between her sobs. “Everything's always so wound up—in old secrets, and old grudges—and it shouldn't matter anymore! But we just pretend it doesn't—we don't talk about it—but every time it returns to the past all over again.”

Elise's sobs, hiccups and gasps, kept a steady record of time passed as Leon and Marx looked at each other, neither of them the first to speak.

“Say something,” Elise said indignantly.

“She tried to kill me, Elise,” Leon said plainly, holding out his still-bleeding hand. Takumi noticed now that his fingers seemed limp—the gruesome cut must've been as deep as it was wide across his palm.

With an angry, humiliated whine, Elise brought her hands to her face. She gave a few muffled snuffs. Then when she took her hands away, she picked up her staff and inclined it toward Leon, bathing him in its healing light. Leon curled the fingers on his newly healed hand and set it in his lap.

In a small voice with no venom left, Elise said, “I'm still mad at you.”

“I know,” said Leon.

Marx patted Elise and said, “We'll take the body back with us,” his gentle way of asking them to move forward and complete their task.

Elise nodded, closing her eyes and steadying her breath with a hand over her mouth and nose. Her retainers, at last with no worries of interfering in family affairs, approached her to offer their comfort, Harold producing a handkerchief with which to clean her face. 

Leon rose and cast one long gaze at Camilla. She still sat at her Vein by the Chasm, her back to them, having already forsworn both the love and darkness of Nohr.

Alone, Leon continued on to his Vein.

“We should be going back,” Hinoka said.

“Yeah.”

Wondering where Zero had gone, Takumi glanced around. When at last he spotted Zero, he was a distance away, being healed by Felicia. Zero wasn't even looking in their direction. Strange, for a man who wouldn't be separated from his master even in death.

Takumi, lost in thought, was unprepared for the moment the pegasus leapt from the ground. He grabbed Hinoka's waist to keep his balance, feeling her amused chuckle through his arms.

Pressed against Hinoka's back, Takumi thought to himself how, if he were asked about his older sister, he would've said that they weren't close, that she was kind of patronizing and annoying, that she seemed to like him least out of everyone in their family. But a strange thought entered Takumi's mind, something that he'd unknowingly taken for granted: He trusted that Hinoka wished him well. That she wouldn't walk away from him. That she'd never throw him into a bottomless ravine.

The pegasus tilted downward for their descent. Takumi said, “Hey, Hinoka.”

“Hm?” she grunted.

“Thanks for being my sister.”

“Oh,” she said. “Thanks. That's sweet.” For a moment she was quiet as she maneuvered the pegasus to land. Its hooves made contact with the ground and it cantered to a stop. Then she said, “I count on you too.”

* * *

So they returned to their Veins, sweat from the battle now chilly against their skin in the winter wind. Oboro and Hinata, although seeming disappointed that they hadn't gotten to do anything, greeted him warmly. Across from him, Leon—a complete mess with his clothes torn and blood all over him—stood alone.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Aqua called distantly. “Let us begin once more.”

As Takumi closed his eyes and pressed his energy into the Vein, his knees started shaking. He had expended too much energy trying to rescue Leon. As his head grew faint, he held back, hoping no one would notice.

Then there was a sound, at once high like a chime and low like the earth's groan, as the Vein under his feet whirled and vanished. Takumi opened his eyes and the Chasm looked no different, but something must have changed—Aqua had left her Vein to collect Raijin-tou from Ryouma.

Takumi took the Fuujin-yumi into his hands, his heart sinking at the thought that Aqua would soon come around and take it from him. Then it would pass into the other world where it would remain forever so that someday, if Kamui went mad, someone could use it to awaken the Yato-no-kami then shoot an arrow through a dragon god's heart.

It all seemed so unfair.

Takumi looked up to see how much longer he had. Aqua had stopped to converse with Hinoka—it appeared she was seeing them all before she left, as she would soon be separated from them forever. And although he had already mourned Aqua's departure the first time she left to help rule the other world, somehow it seemed worse to meet again, spend so little time together, fail to find closure, and part once more.

As Aqua approached him, Takumi all but thrust the Fuujin-yumi at her, trying to prove to himself that he could let go. Pausing in surprise, Aqua delicately accepted it.

“I'm sorry I called you a traitor,” Takumi blurted. “If there's ever a way, you're always welcome in Hoshido. You can come back any time. You know, if can find a way.”

A smile tickled at her lips as she replied, ever composed, “Thank you, Takumi. I will remember you fondly.”

And he couldn't think of anything else to say, or at least little of it seemed worthwhile and the rest was so intangible that he couldn't conjure it into words. So after an awkward pause, Aqua bowed lightly with her head. Takumi returned the gesture. And she walked onward to Sakura, who couldn't stop nodding as she gazed unblinking at her favorite sister, as if trying to remember how she looked for the rest of all time. They shared their whispers, and then Aqua fetched a pegasus to cross the Chasm one last time.

Across the Chasm, Leon held Brynhildr before him. He ran his fingers over the ends of its pages, looking contemplative. Did it weigh on him, Takumi wondered, that his last memories of Brynhildr were having it turned against him? Takumi couldn't imagine staring at the Fuujin-yumi aimed at himself—it was his bow and no one else's. Except that it wasn't his anymore, nothing in his hands and his back light with its empty holster. All of a sudden the loss hit him. 

Takumi looked up at the sky, trying to do his best not to let the water in his eyes collect and fall. The sky was cloaked in a layer of winter cloud, dimly and evenly white. _This isn't supposed to be how journeys end,_ Takumi thought to himself. Last time the sky had been bright and blue with the coming of spring, the air perfectly warm in the lush grasslands of Touma where they gathered to return. They had promised each other peace and friendship and a better future, and now, four years later, those promises were all kept but soured. There was peace between them but not in the world. There was friendship between them but on shifting ground. And their better future, a future without kings gone mad, was yet still plagued with conflict and poverty.

Aqua came to Leon, Elise watching her go. Leon gave a tight smile and politely handed the Brynhildr to her with both hands. She acknowledged him with a nod, took the tome, and continued on. 

Both Takumi and Leon watched as Aqua went on to Camilla, who joined her, along with Velka who brought their wyverns. They passed by Marx, who embraced Camilla, then extended a hand to Aqua. As they shook hands, Takumi realized that Aqua was a high-ranking envoy from Touma, though he had never seen her that way. She was his sister. And she, and Camilla and Velka, and Felicia and Jakob, stepped up to the brink, their final parting one leap away.

“Farewell,” Aqua called.

“Farewell,” “We'll remember you,” “Please keep in touch if you can,” they called back, while across their faces was written, _We wish you could've stayed._

Delicately, Aqua picked up the edges of her gown, stepping up so that her toes curled over the edge. Camilla and Velka mounted their wyverns; Felicia and Jakob joined Aqua. And with one last exchange of looks and smiles, they dropped down into the depths. Takumi watched them until they vanished into the dark.

* * *

Breaking the silence, Hinata wondered out loud, “Do you suppose they need any help closing the Gate back up?”

“Probably not,” Takumi said, a lump in his throat as he braced himself to speak her name. “Aqua's good at thinking ahead.” 

He wished he didn't cry so easily. It was so unbecoming of a grown man and prince.

Because he was busy trying to absorb his tears into his hands as he rubbed at his face, Takumi was caught by surprise when he finally noticed the ground vibrating under his feet. Taking his hands away, he watched as both sides of the Chasm slowly moved toward each other, the earth groaning and trembling, until at last, across a tiny crack in the ground, Leon stood before him.

Leon lifted his gaze from the ground. He had smears of blood on his face. His jaw was tense. His eyes vaguely settled on Takumi's face.

Then he took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, somehow still clean, and offered it to him.

* * *

There were still things to be done. Keeping Marx's promise to Elise, the Nohrian retainers worked on preparing Claire's body for transport. Hinoka and her retainers flew off to see if there had been any further earthquake damage to the area. Ryouma and Marx had gathered to discuss something quietly—likely the question of what to do now that there was no chasm between them.

Leon hung back, blood-soaked, leaning against his wyvern as he stared at the crack in the ground. Instead of going to their brothers to talk about the state of the world—as they both should have—Takumi went to Leon and handed him his handkerchief back. He held up his canteen, too. “To clean off,” he said as he gestured to his own face.

Leon glanced at him and accepted the canteen with a “Thanks.” He wet the handkerchief and dabbed at the crusted blood on his cheeks and nose.

“I guess we're even now,” Takumi said, trying to be clever.

“Hm?”

“You caught me once, remember? When the bridge crumbled in the other world?”

“Oh,” Leon said absently. “Yeah.” Finished with his face, he wiped his hands, the cloth turning red as it passed across his palm. Takumi supposed there hadn't been a point to what he had just said. In a way, it wasn't even true. He didn't know if the power he'd summoned had helped Leon before Elise fished him out. He didn't know if Leon knew that it had been him. 

Either way, Leon didn't seem to care. And why would he? When Takumi had found himself falling and Leon had been the one to reach out to him, there had been no talk of debt. There was nothing to repay. They helped each other out of human compassion, as allies, as budding friends.

Takumi wondered—When did it get all tangled up? When did he start to feel wronged, overdrawn, owed something, owing something?

“We should see what our brothers are talking about,” Leon said.

* * *

Marx and Ryouma nodded at Takumi and Leon as they came to join them. “We've been discussing the new land border,” said Ryouma.

“As I see it, it couldn't have come at a better time,” Leon said. “A land route would reduce our dependence upon Chevalier.”

“Commercial transport will not be viable until we construct better roads through the mountains,” Marx said, folding his arms, “a project equal in difficulty to the bridge itself.”

“Nonetheless, we shall see easier trade within a generation,” Ryouma said.

It seemed to Takumi that they were assuming too much of their new situation. “Couldn't the Chasm open up again?”

“If so, we contend with the gods,” said Ryouma, “then return to building a bridge.”

* * *

That night after Takumi arrived at their tent, passing by Zero without a word between them, he entered to find that the light was already out. Leon was in his futon, laying still, seemingly asleep.

It was their last night together.

Takumi pulled the blanket back on his futon and shed his outer layers. Chilly air pierced through his nightrobe before he slid under the covers. It looked to be a cold night.

It took him a moment, almost with surprise at himself, to realize that he didn't feel as disappointed as he thought he would be. _Well_ , he reasoned, _if Leon doesn't want to talk, he won't. That's just how it is._ Besides, at this point Leon was probably feeling weak. Healing magic drew upon the body's spirit to mend its flesh, and Leon had followed up his fight with Claire by imbuing more of his energy into a Dragon Vein. 

Still, it seemed like a waste. It would be months, if not years, before their next chance to meet.

Takumi heard movement from across the tent and opened his eyes. Leon had shifted to lie on his back. So he was awake after all. After a moment of stillness, Leon rose, found his coat, and wrapped it around him as he padded toward Takumi's feet—to the entrance of the tent. He pushed open the flap, bright moonlight and the sound of wind flooding their tent. “A glass of water, please.”

He let the flap fall back into place, and the quiet dark returned. Takumi watched Leon standing there, at the foot of his futon, wondering if Leon noticed that he was awake.

“Leon?” Takumi said, his voice hoarse from near-sleep.

In response, Leon said, “Hm?”

“We're going home tomorrow morning.”

Leon returned to gazing through the crack where the tent's flap didn't quite meet its walls. The light outside, gazing back, drew a jagged line down his face and across his chest.

“This is the last night we have together.”

“Yes,” Leon said. He left it at that, leaving Takumi to struggle to decide what to say next.

After a moment, Leon opened the tent flap and accepted his glass of water from Zero's hands with a cursory, “Thanks.” He drank in long draws, and Takumi, mindful of Zero's presence outside the gap in the tent entrance, waited for him. 

When he was finished with his water, Leon pushed the flap open, handed the glass back outside, and returned to his futon, settling on his back.

With the two of them each wrapped under their own covers, the entrance to the tent closed for the night, Takumi ventured, “My brother says he's going to station me at Fuuma. To watch over the situation there. You know.”

“Hm.”

“In a way it's closer to Nohr there. Not by air, of course. But it's right by the southern coast. And if you were stationed in the south too—say, to control the situation in Chevalier—we could see each other all the time...”

Takumi left off there, his dream between them, the one idea he'd had for them to move forward together.

“No. The best course of action is to grant Chevalier internal autonomy. As long as they continue to supply us with metal and grant us right of passage to the coast, it matters little if they manage their own governance.”

It took a moment for disappointment to sink in. Why couldn't Leon be the slightest bit sentimental about it? Why couldn't Leon hear what Takumi was really asking—to be closer? Why couldn't Leon just be human?

“Besides—they detest me.”

Takumi said, with a voiceless laugh, “Doesn't Chevalier hate everyone?”

Evidently beyond humor, Leon said, “They have a special hatred for traitors. Apparently, I count for having been named Léon. I can thank my mother once again.”

It was honestly impressive, Takumi thought, how Leon's mother managed to be behind _everything_. And then Leon's words sunk in and awakened a dormant thought.

“She was from Chevalier,” Takumi said aloud. Then, Claire's story made too much sense—that was why their mothers were close, sharing a common homeland.

A sound like movement across cloth came from Leon's direction. Takumi looked over and saw Leon's head turned, staring back, scrutinizing him.

“What?” said Takumi.

“You said that like you just realized something,” Leon said suspiciously.

“Oh, uh...” Takumi looked away, wondering why he was so reluctant to admit what he had learned about Leon from someone else. “It's something Claire”—here he paused from the eeriness of speaking the name of the newly dead—“said about... how her mother was framed, or something...”

“Framed by my mother, you mean,” Leon said.

“Yeah...”

“That's all right,” Leon said indifferently as he returned his gaze to the ceiling. “It's only the truth.”

Takumi knew Leon wasn't truly indifferent, but for once he seemed to be willing to talk. And Takumi was curious. So he said, “Then, she did kill them. Your brothers?”

It took longer than Takumi expected for Leon to reply. At last, he said, “I used to think that. She'd use the same methods to strike back at the ones who made the attempt on my life, looking as if it had been the same poisoner all along. But I should've known. She'd never dirty her own hands when she could use someone else's. No, she was crafting the perfect alibi by Father's side.” 

Leon paused, shifting in his blankets. 

“Camilla did it for her.” To the awful silence that followed, Leon added, “She was twelve.”

“I don't think it was the first time she'd done it. But it was the first time she did it for me. At my mother's request. After her own mother died, Camilla needed new allies to survive.”

“Then one day over a decade later, with our brother Marx about to take the throne, the two of them went through old records and she found—she found the report of her mother's death. The details didn't mean anything to the lords who wrote it, but she knew right away what it meant.”

Leon looked at him again. “Take a guess.”

“What?” said Takumi. “I don't...”

With a lilt in his voice, as if to gesture at this macabre show and say _Isn't it funny?_ Leon said, “It was my mother, of course. She killed Lady Ariadna. She drove Camilla into her alliance.” 

In a brief gap of silence, Leon's voice had changed again, softened to something thick and mournful. “Now Camilla looks at me and remembers all she's done for her mother's murderer.”

Takumi regretted asking. He regretted summoning something horrible and remote into their midst on this last night, this night that should have been tender.

Pulling the blankets closer, Leon turned onto his side, his face hidden from Takumi. “So she's left all our past behind.”

Sending his hand into the cold night air, Takumi reached for him. His fingers found the wool rug between them.

“Never mind that I didn't do anything, right? It doesn't matter if I need her. Or if she decided to make me motherless too. It doesn't matter to her. She'll do what she wants. She'll leave.”

Inching over in his futon, he touched Leon's blankets—and reaching as far as he could, his arm and fingers fully extended, his fingers could just barely grace Leon's back, a ghost of his intention to place a hand on Leon's shoulder to offer his sympathy.

Leon stilled. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Takumi, the outlines of his face faintly visible in the light that leaked into the tent. For a beat Takumi looked into the hazy shadows of his eyes.

Then Leon lifted his blanket, surged over, brought the cold with him like a wave as he was suddenly in Takumi's futon, Leon's hands and forearms chilly where they braced against his body— _what the heck is he doing_ —Leon's face right there in his face, Leon's lips and his breath subsuming his own.

Startled, Takumi drew back just enough to feel cool air between their faces again, breathing fresh air. They stared at each other for a moment, frozen in place, Takumi trying to understand why Leon had invited himself into his futon. As if in answer, Leon pressed against Takumi again, kissing him hard in the mouth, pressing a hand on his shoulder with all his weight behind it.

Pushed onto his back, belly-up, Takumi watched Leon straddle him, his head eclipsing the light from the flap as he came in for Takumi's mouth again. _I wanted this_ , Takumi thought as his lips were sucked and pushed around. _Physical stuff. He didn't. So what is this? This is..._

Leon parted his face from Takumi's, adjusting himself—sitting atop his legs—to untie Takumi's sash. With possession of his mouth returned to him, Takumi said, “Hey. I know we've talked about this before...”

“Hm?” Leon's fingers poked awkwardly at the cord of his undergarments running around his waist.

“It's just, what seemed to bother you the most was—”

 _Seeing yourself, your own judgment, not anyone else's eyes but your own, just like me you_ —Takumi's mind was blown clean of its thoughts as someone else's hand was on his dick and he jumped, reflexively grabbing Leon's wrist as he yelped, “What the fuck!”

“What?” said Leon, sounding unconcerned.

“Okay, a minute ago you were devastated about your family, and now you want to... I just don't understand—look—you hardly even talked to me for two days, so I don't get how you suddenly... want, to...”

Leon's fingers had slowly gone slack. Takumi released his wrist, and Leon withdrew his hand, Takumi's loosened undergarments still askew.

Leon said, “I don't get it either.”

“How can you not get it?” Takumi retorted. “You shoved me to the floor and grabbed me.” Feeling his thighs go numb, he shifted them as much as he could under Leon's weight, and, noticing something new, added, “And you're not even—interested.”

Leon glanced down, then back at Takumi, his face blank.

“Well?” Takumi said.

“Ha... hahahaha—”

Shaking with uncontrollable laughter, a cracked open smile on his face, Leon doubled over as he giggled all of the air out of his body. With a high-pitched gasp he refilled his lungs with air, and laughing again, dropped his face into Takumi's pillow, his chin barely touching where Takumi's left shoulder met his neck. Takumi's world of sound was filled with Leon's eerie hysteria, right by his ear, that strange laughter that could have been sobbing.

Takumi, never less sure of what was happening, held still beneath him. His breathing encumbered by the pillow against his face, Leon's convulsions quelled to a shiver.

“I don't know, Takumi,” he said with unexpected clarity, into the pocket of air between the pillow, their bodies, Takumi's ear. “I have no idea.”

Takumi breathed as Leon erupted into a new bout of hysterics by his ear, wondering what he was supposed to do or say. If he told Leon what he was really thinking right then— _Please get off of me and go back to your own futon; you're scaring me and it's getting hard to breathe_ —what would happen? For once in his life it seemed vital to watch every word that might come out of his mouth, for fear that it could break Leon and thereby break himself.

“Do people just know what they love?” Leon said. “What they want from others? What they want to fuck? Are they just born knowing?” Takumi, the captive audience of Leon's discourse, thought to himself, _None if it was easy for me to figure out._ “Then what am I?”

In the silence that followed, guessing that Leon might be waiting for an answer, Takumi ventured, “I don't think people are born knowing anything.” It was almost like the kind of conversation they used to have, about philosophy, about the nature of being.

“They're born knowing hunger,” Leon said. “They know to cry. They know to eat.”

Takumi thought about Rinka saying of infant Shinonome, _I don't think he knows how to drink_ , and said, “Babies have to figure out how to eat.”

Next to his ear, Leon was still and silent. What did that mean? Had Takumi said the wrong thing?

Then Leon said, “You're right. They don't know that they hunger, either. Just that they want.” He shifted, turning his face out of the pillow and toward Takumi. “I'm still a child, then.”

“I mean,” Takumi stumbled, “people teach you about food. We can just say 'I'm hungry'. It's not like—like this stuff.” Reminded of what he had wanted to say, he added, “That's why I said you should tell someone about you and me. Because alone, it's—”

A strange groan emanated from his pillow, and Takumi, again unsure of what was happening, broke off mid-sentence.

“It's not that,” Leon said. “It's not that. It's not you and me. It's me.”

Takumi mumbled, “But I'm right here. You dragged this into _my_ futon.” He wrapped his arms around Leon, sealing his hands together on top. “You can't say I have nothing to do with this now.” Leon had come to him and now Takumi would decide when he would go.

Leon gave a single laugh—“Ha!”—as if this time, he might have actually found it funny.

“Stop saying it's only about you,” Takumi said. “It's so hypocritical.”

Leon did not speak by his ear, though his breathing sounded faintly agitated. Takumi, gazing at the dark top of the tent, pretended for Leon's sake not to notice that he was crying. With the weight of Leon's body on him, Takumi wondered why it felt so different this time, lacking in that feeling of closeness, suffused instead with something awkward and unpleasant—even though the night had taken the turn he thought he'd wanted. 

There was a faint pain in his abdomen where one of Leon's bones—his hip?—had been pressing for some time, and Takumi shifted slightly to relieve the pressure, continuing to hold him.

“We all affect each other,” Leon said finally. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah,” said Takumi. “Something like that.”

“Mm. I know.” He let out a long breath, his ribcage flattening under Takumi's hands. “How I envy them. I wish I could forget everything. Leave it all behind.”

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ Takumi thought with a twinge of fear. Leave them behind—like Camilla, into the other world? Or—like Elise? Leon only curled into him, making himself more comfortable in Takumi's arms, his breath evening out. Holding onto memories of books read together, parties blown off, stories shared—holding Leon in his arms, Takumi felt sweat begin to collect around his overheated chest, even though his fingers felt chilly, exposed to the night air.

With his breath drawing warmth from the crook of Takumi's neck, Leon muttered, “But I have a kingdom to rebuild.”

When Leon finished speaking, the darkness and the silence of the tent laid claim to Takumi's senses. For a moment there was nothing else in the world but Leon in his arms, present and alive.

And then in his recollection he listened to what Leon had just said: _I have a kingdom to rebuild._ Takumi gazed into the darkness of the tent ceiling and thought, _That's it, isn't it? That's what it's been all along._

The years without visits. The arranged marriage to Muse. Putting himself forth as a scapegoat, accepting disgrace he said he couldn't stand, all for Nohr.

What would it mean to be with someone like that? To live in Nohr, away from Hoshido, away from his post in Fuuma, away from his own blood duty—in order to be Leon's comfort woman, always available in the shadows, without any real place in the court, showing the world that Leon had a ruler of Hoshido around his finger?

They were bound for different paths. No matter what they said to each other, that much wouldn't, couldn't change. So why had it taken so long for him to realize that?

 _Compromise_ , Takumi thought with hot eyes as he squeezed Leon in his arms. _I want what's best for Hoshido but I also want my own happiness. I thought there might be some way to make it work—_

Really, was it too much to ask Leon to give a little in return?

Maybe it was because Leon never wanted him as badly. Maybe Leon acted as selfishly as he did because he didn't worry about losing him.

Maybe, now, Takumi would let it happen. He wouldn't go out of his way to offer Leon comfort. He wouldn't chase after him when rebuffed. Leon could contend with the ghosts of Castle Krakenstein without him, for Takumi didn't know how to exorcise them anyhow.

Takumi ran his palm down Leon's back. It was so strange to finally be so close to Leon, making contact all along their front, and here too under his palm was the beauty of Leon's body, the recompense for all the touches he had been denied by geography, by the apocalypse, by shame—and at the same time he thought to himself that this moment would be enough, once and for all.

(When had he stopped wanting Leon so badly?)

Unmoving atop him, breathing quietly, Leon seemed to have fallen half-asleep. Turning his mouth to Leon's ear, Takumi murmured, “We should get some sleep. We have a long trip ahead of us.”

Leon made a sleepy sound. “Yeah.”

Leon still didn't move, and Takumi wondered if he'd have to shake Leon awake first. But as he thought of doing it, Leon inhaled and pushed himself up on his arms, pausing there for a moment.

He left a kiss under Takumi's ear, where his skin was still moist from Leon's lungs. “Good night,” Leon said.

“Good night,” Takumi said as Leon slid out of his sheets. He fixed his undergarments, felt for his sash under his covers, and awkwardly retied it under the blankets. Relieved at how much better he felt with his clothes on straight, he curled the covers around himself to keep in the heat. 

Across the tent, Leon had settled back into his own bedroll. He laid facing Takumi. Takumi laid facing him. For a while Leon gazed back at him, the wet of his eyes visible with an amphibian gleam.

“Good night,” Takumi repeated quietly.

“Good night.”

Takumi rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

* * *

In the morning their camp was covered in a thin layer of snow. They took down their tents, dusted off the canvas, collected their things together, and said their farewells knowing it wouldn't be their last.

Though Takumi had not sought him out, Leon came to him as they were about to depart. To Takumi's surprise, Leon gave him a brisk hug in front of the others, unsentimental but warm.

Then, exhausted, they went their separate ways.


End file.
